Rishtaa: An Arranged Love
by phati-sari
Summary: ON HIATUS. This is no longer the story of a girl who crashed a fashion show and a man who thought she was a corporate spy. Marriage is a journey of two people, and of two families, and this rishtaa will change everything.
1. Teaser 1

_Author's Note: This is a sneak peek of my next story :) Regular updates will begin in May 2016._

* * *

She'd tried to watch him discretely but was sure he'd caught her a few times. Her heartbeat reacted oddly, speeding up and sending her emotions spiralling out of control.

 _Hai Devi Maiya, what's happening to me?_

A soft knock disturbed her racing thoughts, and Khushi turned to find him standing in the archway.

"May I have some water?"

Nodding, she poured a glass from a copper vessel and handed it to him, using every drop of her courage to meet his eyes. She drowned in their honeyed depths, only coming back to herself when he took the steel glass from her. Flushing, she turned away and busied herself by tidying the kitchen. She washed the cups and the pot, replaced the canister of tea on the shelf, and then reached up to replace the canister of sugar. Khushi stretched and stood on her toes, confident in her ability to reach the second shelf, but the burn of his gaze on her back made her stumble.

His hand was suddenly there, holding the canister in the air as she gripped the countertop to regain her balance.

"Careful, Khushi," his voice was soft and his warm breath tickled her neck.

She shivered.


	2. Teaser 2

"He's ... he's had relationships before. Girlfriends."

"Has he been close to them?"

"Amma ... of course he was close to his girlfriends!"

"How do you feel about him kissing his girlfriends?"

 _Oh._

Khushi fled to her bedroom and tried to muffle her crying in a pillow. Her mother joined her soon after.

"Shhhh, it's okay child."

"No it's not ... He ... They ..."

"Shhhh."

She buried herself in her mother's lap, weeping her misery for several long minutes.

"I can't do this Amma."


	3. Chapter 1: Khushi

_Author's Note:_ _ **Rishtaa: An Arranged Love**_ came about because I wanted to test a theory I had. Khushi and Arnav's first meeting coloured their interactions for months. They began on the wrong foot and, for a long time, they couldn't push past that. So I wondered how these characters might get along if we removed the disaster that was their first meeting, if we allowed them a gentler beginning, but kept almost everything else the same.

Does their pride still get in the way? Do their prejudices? How do they speak to one another? How do they reconcile the differences in status and money? What about their almost-instant and overpowering attraction and lust?

An arranged marriage scenario makes them as equal as they can possibly be: the differences in wealth and status persist but this is no longer the story of a girl who crashed a fashion show and a man who thought she was a corporate spy. It's the story of two people who meet because their families want it; who, despite his money and her idealism, are in the same situation.

In trying to make Khushi and Arnav as equal as possible, I realised that Khushi couldn't be the 18-year-old, straight-out-of-school girl Arnav met at the _mazhar_. So she's 22 and in her last year of college here. I needed Khushi to have seen more of the world, to understand more of human nature, than she did when we met her in the serial.

The final major change is the absence of Shyam. Initially, I wanted to see how Arshi dealt with Shyam in this new scenario, but once I started writing it, I realised I didn't have the heart.

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Khushi**

Khushi peeked between the jars and canisters, trying to steal a glimpse of him as the water boiled. Luckily, he'd placed his dining chair so she had a clear view of him as he waited with his family.

 _He brought his entire family to see me_ , Khushi fretted, nervously toying with the end of her _dupatta_.

There was an elderly matron, a middle-aged man, a middle-aged lady wearing makeup as if it was going out of fashion (his wife?), a grinning young woman who looked sweet, and a shy, bespectacled man who looked out of his depth.

And of course, _him_.

Khushi turned away, biting her lip, and fished the last of the _samosas_ from a pan of oil. She strained them before adding them to the pile already arranged on a _thaali_. Then a quick glance at the pot, but the water wasn't even close to boiling. It took a lot of water to make tea for such a crowd.

She returned to her covert surveillance, cataloguing the differences between the photo she'd been looking at for three days and the living, breathing man sitting with her family. His hair was longer, she noted, in danger of falling into his eyes without the gel he'd applied to beat it into submission.

 _He wears suit-boot even when he's not at the office._

He was dressed in black – black suit, black shoes, black tie – with a dark blue shirt to break up the starkness. It made him look grim, and Khushi thought that he'd looked better in the white shirt and grey suit he'd worn in the photo.

But the stern and forbidding countenance she'd seen in the photo was present in reality, as were the blankness in his eyes and the scowl in his features.

Khushi shivered.

He looked handsome, and his family seemed nice, but Khushi wanted a husband who was kind and loving, someone who would smile and laugh with her.

She returned to the tea, already planning polite refusals in her mind.


	4. Chapter 2: Arnav

**Chapter 2: Arnav**

For the fifth time in four weeks, Arnav found himself sitting in the living room of some poor girl that Nani had found for him. She'd put out feelers as soon as he'd turned twenty-six, utilizing some hitherto-unknown network of women and gossips to unearth girl after girl after girl for him to meet.

She'd accepted and rejected photographs for him, claiming to only present him with the cream of the crop, and then pressed, cajoled and nagged until he'd agreed to meet a few. He'd rejected three of the girls he'd met – they were entirely wrong for him and one was clearly being forced into an advantageous marriage by her family – and the other had rejected him before he'd had the chance to voice his disapproval. She'd eloped the very next day with her boyfriend.

 _We're wasting our time._

No contract, no amount of red powder, and no necklace could tie a girl to him. It would only trap her, and if she decided later on that she wanted someone else, she'd be forced to cheat on him. Without marriage, she'd be free to leave him and pursue all of her options, and he wouldn't have to deal with an unfaithful spouse.

 _Like Mamma._

Arnav suspected that they were only here, in this cramped house in the back alleys of Laxmi Nagar, because Nani had a connection to it. Her old neighbours from Lucknow had suggested this family, where the father came from a line of sweet-makers and the elder daughter was engaged to a mediocre accountant. This girl was young – in her last year of college – but Nani had insisted on meeting her.

Di, overexcited with the idea of a sister-in-law from Lucknow, kept grinning and throwing him thumbs-up signals. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes and glanced at Aakash, noting his cousin's bored and disinterested demeanor.

Arnav looked over at the girl's family. Her father was a kind and principled man who carried the conversation confidently; her mother a quiet woman with sharp eyes and a ready smile, and her Bua-ji was a formidable oddity with a loud laugh. Her sister was a prim figure in the corner, her diamond engagement ring twinkling on her finger as she smiled at Di and Nani.

Impatient to leave, Arnav looked towards the rest of the house, wondering where the girl was. The sooner she arrived, the quicker they could leave, and the earlier he could send over his rejection.


	5. Chapter 3: Khushi

**Chapter 3: Khushi**

Khushi carefully poured tea into their best cups - the ones reserved for special guests - taking care so each held the same amount of liquid. She fished out their newest, prettiest sugar canister and poured sugar into it, placing it neatly on the tray of cups with five of the shiniest teaspoons she'd found. Then she arranged sweets on a second platter - _jalebi_ and sugar free _barfi_ \- before taking a deep breath.

 _Devi Maiyya, please stay with me._

She walked to the living room slowly with the tea tray carefully balanced in her hands, and knelt in front of the coffee table to set it down. She exchanged a quick glance with her sister, who left the room to fetch the rest. The conversation faded into silence as everyone stared.

"This is Khushi," Babu-ji introduced her, "our younger daughter."

" _Namaste_ ," Khushi folded her hands in greeting, smiling at everyone in turn but skipping over _him_ quickly to avoid catching his eye.

"Bless you, child," smiled the elderly lady, "I'll introduce you to our family. I'm Arnav's Nani, this is my son and daughter-in-law, and their son Aakash."

The heavily made up lady scowled as her husband smiled, and the bespectacled man brought his hands together and mouthed ' _Namaste_ ' when she looked at him. Jiji returned to the room, kneeling silently as she arranged the _samosas_ and other snacks on the small table. His Nani continued the introductions.

"And this is my granddaughter, Anjali, Arnav's sister ... and of course, Arnav himself. Their mother was my daughter."

 _He's an orphan like me,_ Khushi remembered.

Her heart skipped a beat as she peeked at him, quickly looking away when he lifted his head to look at her. Her skin warmed under his gaze.

The elders continued their conversation about Lucknow's delights as Khushi served the tea, quietly asking each guest how much sugar they took before handing them their cups.

" _Bitya_ , this is your last year of college?" asked his Mama as he reached for a _samosa_.

"Yes, Mama-ji. I want to be a teacher. I love being around children and have always enjoyed learning."

His Mama nodded, smiling, and his Mami's scowl disappeared for a few seconds as she bit into a _samosa_. She leaned over to whisper something to his Nani, who frowned in response.

" _Bitya_ , these _samosas_ are wonderful. Did you make them yourself?" his Nani asked.

"Yes, Nani-ji. And the _jalebi_ and _barfi_ too."

"They're delicious! Khushi-ji, do you read?" his sister asked brightly.

"Yes, Anjali-ji. I like reading."

"I love reading! We should share our favourites ..." Anjali-ji looked quickly at her brother, "... later."

Khushi nodded, blushing as she thought of the copy of _2 States_ under her pillow, and turned to his cousin, who smiled as he took his cup.

 _Akshay-ji? No, Aakash-ji. Oh Devi Maiyya there are so many names to remember._

Khushi took the remaining cup and handed it to _him_ , recalling Bua-ji's warning about his diabetes. He watched her, a frown marring his features. Khushi allowed herself to - _finally_ \- look at him up close as he accepted the cup with a faint expression of surprise.

Electricity zipped through her as the tips of their fingers touched. She couldn't stifle a soft gasp at the shock of the contact.


	6. Chapter 4: Arnav

**Chapter 4: Arnav**

Arnav was begrudgingly impressed. Nani had been careful to tell each family about his diabetes, but only one of the other girls had remembered. The rest had either reacted with shock at a gentle reminder or left him to discover the sugar in his drink when he sipped it.

 _The photo didn't do her justice_ , he realised.

It hadn't managed to capture the lustre of her hair, the brightness of her eyes, or the genuine emotion behind her smile.

She made conversation with his family easily, switching between talking of her studies, her hobbies, and her plans for the future. Arnav watched as she tempered her Bua-ji's exuberance, gently nudged her sister into the conversation, and engaged Nani and Di in a debate about the best embroiders in Lucknow. Her arrival had changed the mood almost instantly – even Aakash had lost his bored stupor and was smiling at her jokes.

She ignored him thoroughly, and he was surprised by how much it bothered him.

"Arnav- _babua_ ," her Bua-ji's voice broke into his thoughts, "What is it ... _exactly_ ... that you do?"

"I own AR Group. We have a TV channel and a few factories. We're best known for our textiles company, AR Designs."

Mrs Gupta blinked at him, "So you make clothes?"

"We design clothes and jewellery, yes."

"Jiji, Garima-ji," Mr Gupta fought a smile, "his company makes designer clothes, the ones the film stars wear. The ones you see on the TV, on the fashion shows."

"On those stick-like models with the hollow cheeks?" her Bua-ji's whispered comment to Mrs Gupta seemed to echo around the room.

"There was an article about Chhote, uhh Arnav, in Forbes India recently," Di, always eager to praise him, interjected, "and he might even make the _Thirty under 30_ list this year. He did his MBA at Harvard."

Arnav grimaced at her casual use of his annoying petname in front of strangers. He glanced at the girl, noting that she was fiddling with her _dupatta_ instead of looking at him.

"Oh that's very good," gushed her Bua-ji, "Our Lallan, from the neighbourhood, he also went to Haridwar. You must have studied the Holy Texts."

"I studied Business at Harvard, in America," Arnav bit out, "not Haridwar."

Di stifled a giggle as the girl's Bua-ji subsided, settling back into her seat with her tea.

"I saw, in the newspaper, that you're building a factory in Lucknow."

He clenched his fist, disliking Mr Gupta's reminder of his recent trip to Lucknow. He'd forced himself to return to that hated city one last time, to finalise the purchase of Sheesh Mahal from his treacherous Chacha. Out of the corner of his eye, Arnav saw Aakash move as if to place a calming hand to his shoulder, but his cousin rethought the action and retracted his hand before he made contact.

"I recently acquired land in Lucknow," he said simply, "We're planning to build a textiles factory there. I think the factory could ..."

He'd been watching the girl discreetly, still irrationally annoyed by her lack of attention, and trailed off as he caught her peeking in his direction from under her lashes. His heart seemed to skip a beat. Sipping from his cup to cover his stumble, Arnav was surprised to find the tea was deliciously spiced. He drank the rest slowly, relishing the taste, and idly wondered if he'd ever have the chance to taste it again.

 _Focus. Arnav Singh Raizada writes his own destiny. And there's no room in it for this girl ... or her tea._


	7. Chapter 5: Khushi

**Chapter 5: Khushi**

Khushi quickly collected the used cups, hoping to hide in the kitchen and catch her breath. Her heart was pounding and her cheeks were constantly heating up. He'd ignored her for the first few minutes, but his attention had sharpened after she'd handed him a cup of tea. She'd felt his eyes burning through her as she'd struggled through conversations with his family. He'd answered his own questions quietly and confidently, his eyes flicking to her again and again.

She'd tried to watch him discreetly but was sure he'd caught her a few times. Her heartbeat reacted oddly, speeding up and sending her emotions spiralling out of control.

 _Hai Devi Maiyya, what's happening to me? What's he doing to me? My heart ..._

She hadn't reacted like this to any of the other men. Five others had sat where he sat, making the same circular but polite conversations with her father as the families sized one another up. She'd rejected three of them – one was rude to her father; another had leered at Jiji when he thought no one was looking; and the third had tried to hold her hand in the shadows of the kitchen – and been rejected by the other two.

But this man, this tall stranger with darkness in his eyes, he made her pulse race and her palms itch. He was electric, magnetic, dangerously desirable in a way the others hadn't been.

 _Maybe it's not him_ , Khushi thought with sudden clarity. _Maybe it was my tea. Or the sweets. Yes. Yes. I have acidity. It was the barfi. I must have made a mistake, it was my first time making a sugar free sweet. Oh Devi Maiyya, he'll get sick! He'll never say yes to me now._

Something akin to sadness pulsed within her. She closed her eyes.

 _You don't want him, Khushi_ , she reminded herself, _He doesn't smile. He won't laugh at your jokes and count stars with you. He won't smile when you dance to your favourite songs, and he certainly won't join in. He won't let you hang up your stars, he won't bring you jalebi when you're sad, he won't buy you channa just because he thought of you on the way home from the office._

Bua-ji's words, overheard one night after dinner, came to her unbidden.

"There's no reason to worry about _Payalia_ , Shashi- _babua_. She'll make an ideal wife. Hundreds of boys will line up for her. Worry about this _Sanka Devi_. Who will marry her, _Nand Kishore_ , with her wildness and penchant for trouble?"

 _Babu-ji is starting to worry. He hasn't said anything, but I can tell. I can always tell._

A soft knock disturbed her racing thoughts, and Khushi turned to find _him_ standing in the archway. Her tummy gave a little flip-flop.

"May I have some water?"

Her inexplicable _dhak-dhak_ returned at the sound of his voice, now directed solely at her. Nodding, she poured a glass from a copper vessel and handed it to him, using every drop of her courage to meet his eyes. She drowned in their honeyed depths, only coming back to herself when he took the steel glass from her.

Flushing, Khushi turned away and busied herself by tidying the kitchen. She washed the cups and the pot before turning to the countertop. He was still standing there, watching her every move as he sipped. Her hands shook slightly as she replaced the canister of tea on the shelf, and their silence stretched, becoming uncomfortable.

 _Explain about the barfi._

"The _barfi_ ... it was sugar free," she began, reaching up to replace the canister of sugar, "and ... you see ... I-"

Khushi stretched and stood on her toes, confident in her ability to reach the highest shelf, but the burn of his gaze on her back made her stumble.

His hand was suddenly there, holding the canister in the air as she gripped the countertop to regain her balance. She closed her eyes, cursing her clumsiness.

"Careful, Khushi," his voice was soft and his warm breath tickled her neck.

She shivered.


	8. Chapter 6: Arnav

**Chapter 6: Arnav**

"Careful, Khushi."

Her name tasted sweet on his tongue.

She was unexpectedly intriguing and he was unable to stay away. He'd waited for her to return to the room with bated breath and when she hadn't, had invented an excuse to follow her. Arnav took a deep breath as he placed the canister on the upper shelf, memorizing her floral scent to augment his recollection of her. He stepped back with reluctance, introducing a polite distance between them.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Y-yes. Th-Thank you."

"Khushi ..." her sister appeared in the archway. She froze, watching them both, "Are you ... are you okay?"

The girl - _Khushi_ \- nodded, exchanging a small smile with her sister before turning to him.

"Are you finished?"

Nodding, Arnav placed the glass on the countertop and followed her sister through the archway. He left _her_ standing in the kitchen, breathing deeply and clutching the neckline of her green and pink _kameez_. Di raised her eyebrows at him as he returned to his family, no doubt imagining a more romantic encounter than the reality. He suppressed a scoff.

 _Me. Romantic. Yeah, right._

No one had ever accused Arnav Singh Raizada of being a romantic, and no one ever would.

Arnav eyed the _barfi_ as he took his seat next to Aakash. He disliked sugar free desserts - what was the point? - but curiosity overpowered his distaste. He snatched a small piece from the platter, ignoring his sister's pointed look, and popped it into his mouth. Flavours erupted on his tongue. Even Di's best efforts paled in comparison.

 _Unsurprising, given her father's profession._

Nani started making polite noises about leaving, with Mami eagerly joining in, and soon they were all standing and taking leave of the Gupta family. Arnav hung back as everyone gathered at the door, taking advantage of his brief isolation to take another sweet from the table. There was a soft gasp from across the room.

She was standing in the archway, hands twisted into her _dupatta_ as she watched him. Her cheeks turned pink as their eyes met. Somehow, her coy blushing was more endearing to him than anything else he'd seen her do. She hurried past him to exchange her farewells, refusing to look at him again.

In the car, Di hounded him for opinions before filling his silences with a string of her own observations.

"The Gupta family is so nice," she gushed, "They're exactly the kind of family Nani has in mind. Khushi-ji has all the values that are important to our family. And Chhote, did you see? She's educated, with plans to have an independent career, but she's so respectful and sweet. She's also deeply religious."

Arnav grimaced.

"And ..." Di glanced at him from the passenger seat, grinning cheekily, "She's beautiful. Her smile is infectious."

 _That it is ... and her eyes are expressive, and her hair looks so ..._

Arnav halted his thoughts.

"So, Chhote, what did you think?"

"I'll tell you tomorrow, as usual," he said, "Give me a night to gather my thoughts, Di."

His family had developed a routine of leaving him alone after each meeting, giving him time and space to consider the impending alliances. He'd barely thought of those other girls after leaving their homes, taking advantage of the rare freedom and silence to catch up on much needed work instead.

But something told him that Khushi Kumari Gupta would infiltrate his thoughts.

Sure enough, as he lay in bed with moonlight streaming into his bedroom through the open curtains, Arnav couldn't banish the image of her eyes as they sparkled in mirth. He recalled the curve of her lips as she'd smiled at Di, the way she'd bitten her lip when Nani had asked about her future plans, her sharp intake of breath as their fingertips brushed.

He turned over, trying to banish her.

His fingers wondered if her hair was as silky as it looked. His nose asked how much of her floral scent was natural. His ears wanted to hear her sweet voice take his name. It was almost dawn before his eyes closed and his dreams took over, presenting him with a blushing Khushi who trembled at his touch and breathlessly took his name as he explored her.


	9. Chapter 7: Khushi

**Chapter 7: Khushi**

Khushi greeted the dawn outside, a cup of tea clutched in her hands as she tried to contain her racing thoughts. She'd spent the night replaying each interaction of the afternoon until they'd threatened to lose all meaning. She'd barely slept. She'd also watched her family carefully for signs of acidity but no one seemed to feel it ... except her.

Which left only one explanation.

 _What's happening to me, Devi Maiyya? Why does he make me feel so strange?_

A part of her desperately wanted to see him again, eager to test if yesterday's unexpected reactions would surface again, but most of her was terrified of him and what he provoked in her.

 _It's better if you stay away, Khushi._

Her father found her a few minutes later, sitting beside her on the divan in silence. He didn't ask questions as Amma and Bua-ji would have. Grateful, Khushi took her time to prepare her question, and only voiced it when she was ready.

"Babu-ji? How do I make a decision about a life-long partner after just one meeting? We didn't even talk to each other. How will I know?"

"You didn't ask this after the other men," Babu-ji observed, "Is there something different about this one?"

"I ..." Khushi fought her blush, "I don't know."

"Hmmm," Babu-ji smiled, "All I can tell you is that one meeting was all it took between your Amma and me. _Bitiya_ ... we like him and his family. Trust your heart and listen to what it tells you. And when you're ready, tell us."

Nodding, Khushi kissed his cheek quickly before fleeing inside, dodging Bua-ji's questions to shut herself in her room.

"Khushi? Are you okay?"

Jiji turned to look at her in concern, but Khushi was frozen, thinking of a deeper, huskier voice saying the same words. She threw herself onto the bed and groaned into her pillow.

"Khushi? Khushi. Are you sick?"

"No, I'm not sick Jiji. Just confused."

"About ...?"

Khushi sat up quickly, laying the pillow across her lap.

"Jiji ... how did you know Abhishek-ji was the one? The one you want to marry?"

Blushing, Jiji turned her attention to the engagement ring she wore on her left hand.

"He was nice to me, to Babu-ji and Amma, to you. Bua-ji loves him. He has a nice smile. His family is wonderful."

Khushi thought of _his_ permanent scowl, of his Mami's sourness and cutting remarks, of his almost-arrogant words about his company.

 _Of course he's grumpy, Khushi, he can't have sugar. He doesn't have an ounce of sweetness inside him._

Then she thought of his Nani's kindness, his sister's smiles, of the way he'd helped her in the kitchen, the glance he'd stolen before leaving.

Her pulse quickened, the _dhak-dhak_ sound of it almost overpowering her, and Khushi struggled to breathe as she watched Jiji disappear into the bathroom. Jiji hadn't mentioned the racing pulse, the stolen glances, or the way her breath had caught when there had been only inches between them.

"Why are you smiling like that?" she frowned at the statue of Devi Maiyya that sat on the small desk, "This is all your fault, this _dhak-dhak_ and restlessness. Is ... Is there something wrong with me? Is he ... dangerous?"

 _No,_ she consoled herself, _he's only dangerous in the way that Salman-ji was dangerous to Madhuri-ji in_ Hum Aapke Hain Koun.

Craning her neck to check that Jiji was locked in the bathroom, Khushi allowed herself to think of the name that had echoed in her ears all night.

 _Arnav_.

"Arnav-ji," she corrected herself in a whisper.

Khushi blushed into the pillow, but threw it aside as the phone rang. She ran to answer it, skidding around Bua-ji as she bustled from the kitchen.

"Watch out, _Sanka Devi_! One day you're going to break an arm or a leg, _Nand Kishore_ , rushing about like that."

"Sorry, Bua-ji!" Khushi grabbed the handset and answered it, "Hello?"

"Khushi- _bitiya_? It's Arnav's Nani here. How are you, child?"

"I'm w-well, Nani-ji. How are you?"

"I'm very well, with Devi Maiyya's blessing. I needed to speak with your father, is he there or should I call the shop?"

"He's ... he's here. I'll get him now. Please ... please hold on."

"Yes, take your time child."

Her heart pounding, Khushi ran through the house and outside, where her father still sat on the divan, a newspaper spread on his lap.

"Babu-ji ..." she panted, "Nani-ji ... on the phone ... hurry."

He nodded as he placed his tea on the small table. Khushi followed him inside, hopping anxiously. She hovered in the kitchen as her father spoke to _his_ Nani, but Babu-ji's short answers gave no clues to her fate.

"Please, please, please, Devi Maiyya," she whispered, unsure which outcome she was praying for.

Her eyes were closed and her crossed fingers in her mouth when Babu-ji tapped her shoulder. Khushi held her breath.

"He wants to meet you again. They've invited us to a function at their home in two weeks."


	10. Chapter 8: Arnav

**Chapter 8: Arnav**

Arnav paced the living room, unheeding of the decorators rushing around him. He checked his reflection in the glass doors leading to the poolside, second-guessing his choice of tie, but turned away with a huff when he realised what he was doing.

 _Stop being absurd, Arnav. She's just a girl._

He took a few deep breaths to calm his pulse, but a glance at his phone set it racing again. She'd be arriving any moment now. He took in his opulent surroundings, trying to see his home as she would – marble floors, high ceilings, expensive furnishings and chandeliers. Something told him that she wouldn't be impressed by his wealth.

 _She's free to think whatever she wants,_ he grimaced, _it's not like I'm interested in marriage._

Arnav glanced at the front door.

He was only dragging out this farce until Nani tired of his rejections and gave up on the idea of marriage altogether. His grandmother was better off focusing her efforts on Aakash. But that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy it, especially when the image of _her_ , eyes closed as she gasped at his nearness, haunted his waking moments.

And his nights.

Exercise had always granted him clarity, and as he'd run block after block the morning after that first meeting, trying to dismiss his overly sensual dreams, a plan had formed. He could play along, ask to see her again, and wait until she or her family rejected him.

 _They're too conservative to allow her to marry an atheist who's already married to his job._

And he would use their rejection to convince Nani and Di that he'd tried his best before gently nudging them towards his brother. Mami would be his greatest ally, he knew, eager as she was to see Aakash married.

Even without his plan, the decision to ask for a second meeting had hardly been difficult - faced with a choice between making polite conversation over tea or coffee with a yet another family and seeing _her_ again, Arnav had picked the latter. So he'd mumbled something over breakfast about getting to know her better, suggesting a second meeting before he made a final decision. Nani had agreed instantly, pleased with his apparent interest, and had started planning tonight's small gathering almost immediately. She and Di had created an uproar within the household for the last fortnight, striving for perfection.

 _None of this makes a difference._

And yet, his pulse quickened when the doorbell chimed.

Arnav started towards the door, trying to ignore the sudden tightness in his chest, only to turn his heel and walk casually in the other direction as Hari Prakash rushed to answer it. Nani and Di greeted the Gupta family, welcoming them into the house as Mama and Mami smiled, but Arnav waited until Aakash joined them before approaching.

Two weeks had passed with only a tiny photo of her to keep him company through the long, restless nights, so his eyes found her unerringly. Khushi brought her hands together to greet Nani, Mama, and Mami. Her hair was unbound, a sleek ebony waterfall tumbling to her waist, contrasting wonderfully with her deep pink sari. Her eyes were kohl-lined and her lips slicked in gloss.

"Namaste."

A blush swept across her cheeks as she trembled under his intent perusal, but her eyes were warm as she greeted him softly. Arnav nodded in response, earning a sharp jab in the back from Di. He frowned at his sister, feeling suddenly defiant, and shook hands with Mr Gupta instead of bringing his hands together as she wanted him to.

"Welcome," he greeted.

Di sighed and mumbled a complaint to Nani, who nodded sympathetically as Mama engaged Mr Gupta in conversation.

"We've brought a small gift," Mrs Gupta handed Nani a stack of red and gold sweet boxes, "Khushi and Payal made these sweets themselves."

Payal and Khushi smiled as Nani praised their efforts before handing the parcel to a nearby servant.

"Khushi-ji, Payal-ji, come inside!" Di invited suddenly, grabbing Khushi's wrist and pulling her along, "I was hoping you both would help me set up the flowers."

Khushi glanced back as she was led away, and something blossomed in his chest when their eyes met. The rest of her family followed as Nani led them deeper into the house, offering refreshments and asking after the sweet shop.

" _Hai re Nand Kishore_! Is this a house or a stadium?" Khushi's Bua-ji looked around in wonder as Mami sniffed in annoyance.

"Don't cast the evil eye on our home! All of your Laxmi Nagar will fit inside it!"

Catching Arnav's frown at the barbed comment, Mami subsided and hurried away to stand next to her husband. Luckily, Khushi's Bua-ji didn't seem to have heard. Mr and Mrs Gupta seemed no less awed as they crossed to the temple area.

Aakash had hung back.

"Mr Roy called me a few minutes ago," he began, "There's a problem with the Nainital conference."

"Can you handle it?" Arnav asked, his eyes on Khushi as she helped Di arrange flowers around the temple.

"The model is ready, you've approved the proposal yourself, and the function centre and accommodation are booked," his brother listed, "but some of the representatives are backing down from their promises."

Arnav watched Khushi as she wreathed the statue of Devi Maiyya with marigolds. She giggled as she joked with Di and Payal before bowing her head to pay her respects. Her lips moved as she murmured her prayers.

"Show them the documents they signed at registration," he suggested absently, "They can't renege without legal repercussions. We need this deal finalised by the end of the year."

"Yes Bhai, I understand."

He blinked away from Khushi, alerted to his cousin's misgivings by a slight tremble in his voice.

"Trust yourself, Aakash. I wouldn't have asked you to lead this deal if I didn't think you capable of it. You're doing fine. You don't need me."

Aakash nodded, ducking his head slightly at the praise. He started towards the temple, but turned back before he'd taken three steps.

"Are you coming, Bhai?"

His eyes found Khushi again, just as she turned to glance at him. Her hair swung out behind her as she twirled away almost immediately. She bounced in place, clutching the _pallu_ of her _sari_ , and then turned back with exaggerated casualness. And this time, when their eyes met, she graced him with a shy smile.

"Yeah. I'll stay."


	11. Chapter 9: Khushi

**Chapter 9: Khushi**

Khushi sat between her Bua-ji and Jiji, trying to concentrate on Devi Maiyya but finding her eyes straying, again and again, to the figure that hovered to the side. She'd been confused when he hadn't joined in, and the realization that he wasn't religious had come to her slowly as she'd watched him pace and fidget with his phone.

 _I have to refuse him now, Devi Maiyya. How can I marry a man who doesn't believe in you? Look at him! If he can't respect you, if he can't appreciate you, how will he appreciate everything you've done for him?_

Khushi was resolute, even though her heart ached at the thought. She couldn't marry someone who wouldn't participate in the biggest part of her life.

"Chhote," Anjali-ji called as they prepared for the _aarti_.

Khushi looked around in confusion. No one had mentioned any children.

 _Anjali-ji wears sindoor and a mangalsutra, yet no one talks about her husband. Maybe she has children too._

Then Arnav-ji slid the phone into his pocket and approached his sister, and Khushi forgot all about that mystery. She fought a smile as he took the _thaal_.

 _Chhote._

Unbidden, her mind imagined him at four or five, rushing about this house with a scowl on his face, his sister walking after him and calling out "Chhote". He was dressed entirely in black.

 _Did he let Anjali-ji catch him, despite her limp?_

After completing the _aarti_ and handing the _thaal_ to his Mami, Arnav-ji moved to stand behind everyone. His arm brushed against hers as he angled past, walking through the small gap between her and her sister. Khushi closed her eyes as everything inside her warmed and her heart skipped several beats. Her hands were still trembling when she took the _thaal_ from Jiji a few minutes later.

His Nani led everyone to the sitting area when they were done, but Khushi lingered, watching him discreetly as she helped Anjali-ji tidy up. He toyed with his phone in the corner. Taking a deep breath, she opened her mouth to ask him how his day had been, but he looked up at the same moment. Their gazes clashed, and that electric-magnetic feeling from the first day rushed back into her body, a tingle in her fingertips and a tremor in her legs.

A box of matches slipped from her trembling hands to land on the floor. Khushi bent to pick it up, feeling the kiss of cool air across her back as her _pallu_ slipped. She quickly righted it, the matches secure in her hand, and straightened just as Arnav-ji turned away. He disappeared up the stairs instead of joining their families, and the warmth in her body was chased away by the heavy feeling of disappointment.

 _Why did he ask to see me again if he wasn't going to say a single word?_

She made conversation with his family in the sitting room, laughing with his sister as they swapped book recommendations, but her eyes strayed to the stairs more times than she could count. Her mind wandered, conjuring up the image of Arnav-ji leaning against a wall, his eyes holding her captive. Scowling, he offered a red rose, and refused to chase after her when she tapped it against his nose and ran away.

 _So unromantic, he's not like Salman-ji at all. He refuses to smile, even in my imagination!_

Her family declined when Anjali-ji offered them a tour of the house, but Khushi followed eagerly with Jiji. The house was a confusing mess of corridors and rooms, pools and gardens. After walking to the end of one corridor only to turn into another, identical passageway, Khushi sighed.

"What's wrong, Khushi-ji?"

"Oh, nothing Anjali-ji. I was just thinking that you must need signs to get around this house, it's so big and confusing!"

"Khushi ..." Jiji murmured, pinching her discreetly in warning, but Anjali-ji only laughed.

"I'll mention it to Chhote," she said, and seeing Khushi's confused frown, explained, "This is his house. He had it built after AR turned its first profit."

Khushi's impression of him shifted with the knowledge that he'd built a home for the family that had taken him in as an orphan.

 _So he does appreciate things ... and he respects his family. I'm so confused, Devi Maiyya. He's a walking, talking contradiction!_

"Come, I'll show you the terrace," Anjali-ji urged, leading them up a spiralled staircase.

They emerged onto the roof of the house, half of which was lost to a beautiful garden, with the other half used as a space for entertaining guests. There was a garden swing, a birdbath, and a generous under-cover area decorated with fairy lights. Unwillingly, Khushi fell a little more in love with this house.

 _With his world_ , her mind corrected.

The three of them talked for some time, flitting mindlessly from one topic to another, although Khushi noticed that Anjali-ji took every opportunity to praise her brother. She wondered where he was.

"Anjali- _didi_?" a hesitant voice interrupted them as Khushi regaled Anjali-ji with a story of her very first sweet-making ventures.

They turned to find a servant standing at the door to the terrace.

"Is everything alright, Hari Prakash-ji?"

"I need to speak with you," he responded.

Anjali-ji tried to cover her concern with a smile, but Khushi - a master at masking emotion herself - recognized that something had gone wrong.

"Khushi-ji, Payal-ji, I'll just check on this quickly. I'll be back to get you for dinner, please enjoy the terrace while I'm gone."

"We'll come with you," Jiji offered, but Anjali-ji shook her head.

"Stay. Enjoy the stars."

Khushi left her sister sitting on the swing and strolled around the garden, taking in the colourful flowers and rich greenery. It was maintained with love and care, and she wondered who was responsible for it. She spied a staircase on the other side of the terrace and - checking to see if Jiji was watching - approached them quickly. They led to the second level and ended in another garden. She could just make out a collection of potted plants in the moonlight. Khushi snuck down, hoping to take a peek at the plants, but was halted by a voice.

"I don't want excuses, Aman, I want results. Tell them if they can't deliver on their contract then we'll go after them with all the power of AR. I can't take this nonsense any more. This is unbelievable, dammit."

Warmth rushed through her at the sound of his voice, but it seeped away just as quickly when she registered his words. Khushi wondered his coldness, at the steel in his tone. She'd started to think he was kind behind that forbidding exterior, had tentatively hoped for a future, but this ...

Ignoring the way her heart seemed to drop into her shoes, Khushi tip-toed down a few more steps, wanting to hear him more clearly. He was a dark shadow slouched into a chair, a Bluetooth device blinking at his ear.

"No," he growled, "If you can't handle this then I don't know what I employ you for. I have enough to deal with without holding your hand."

She lowered herself down to the next step, needing to hear more.


	12. Chapter 10: Arnav

**Chapter 10: Arnav**

"If you can't handle this then I don't know what I employ you for. I have enough to deal with without holding your hand."

"I'll make some calls," Aman offered briskly.

"No. You should concentrate on your end. Aakash is handling the Nainital side and I'll handle the rest."

"Arnav? Is everything okay?"

Arnav frowned at Aman's uncharacteristic hesitancy. He'd come to admire the other man's almost brutal honesty over the years, a quality that had saved them time and time again when it came to AR. He'd respected Aman from the first day of their acquaintance, and that respect had deepened into an unlikely friendship in the chaos of AR Group's first few years.

But his relationship with Aman only worked if he was equally as honest.

"No," he screwed his eyes shut, "It's not."

"Is there anything I can do?"

Arnav sighed, "No."

"I know that sigh. It's a girl," Aman was quick to stifle his laughter but it carried through the phone regardless.

"Shut up, Aman," his irritation flared, "I don't pay you to laugh at me."

"You hardly pay me at all. I can't afford to feed myself here, I'm practically begging on the streets!"

"What the-! You're in a five-star suite with a dedicated driver and a gaggle of people at your beck and call."

"Wait," Aman mastered his mirth, "Is it the girl Nani-ji took you to see? Family from Lucknow, sweet making father, college degree?"

"No!" Arnav exclaimed, but then followed it with a softly spoken admission, "Yes. I can't sleep, I can barely eat. It's ridiculous."

It felt like weakness, but a weight lifted off him at the confession.

 _Maybe talking about her will highlight how absurd this infatuation is_.

Aman chuckled, "Good luck bro. I hear that everyone loves her. Nani-ji's ready to show the priests your horoscopes."

Arnav gave a noncommittal grunt as he sat up in the lounge chair, staring up at the stars.

"How the mighty have fallen," Aman took advantage of his silence to gloat some more.

"Yeah. Right. I'll speak to you tomorrow. This damned contract will be dealt with one way or another. And Aman? Don't breathe a word of this to anyone."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Ending the call with a press of a button, Arnav leaned back and closed his eyes. His left arm still tingled where he'd brushed against her, half accidentally. The image of her as she bent for the matches, her back exposed but for the two-inch strip of her blouse and two insubstantial _doris_ , swam against his eyelids.

 _Your attraction is a series of electrochemical responses in the body. Lust, pure and simple. Master it._

She was too goddamned distracting. The nights spent lying awake as her smiling face swam in front of his eyes were taxing his sanity. And Di, in that overly exuberant way of hers, had come up with a childish plan to give them privacy.

"I'll take her to the terrace, Chhote, and then leave under some pretext. Just meet her there before dinner."

He scoffed at the memory of her words.

 _The day I need romantic advice from Di is the day I stop calling myself Arnav Singh Raizada._

He frowned as a soft ringing reached him, stopping and starting at random intervals. Arnav opened one eye - slowly - to see Khushi tip-toeing down the terrace stairs, stopping frequently to glance at him. A smile threatened to form on his lips as he realised that she'd forgotten the chime of her _payal_. He waited in absolute stillness, his eyes _almost_ closed.

 _Talking to her will only encourage this madness._

So focussed was she on him, and on her imagined stealth, that she stumbled into one of the earthen pots that lined the poolside. She slipped, caught herself on the small table, and righted herself with a sharp yelp. Then she froze and stared at him for several heartbeats before approaching with exaggerated care, her _payal_ ringing with every step. She stopped a few feet away.

"Arnav-ji?"

He willed himself not to react, though his heart surged with some emotion he didn't care to identify. His name had never sounded sweeter.

"Arnav-ji?"

She waited a full minute before turning, muttering, "It's good that he's asleep, he told that Aman-ji that he couldn't sleep. Working too hard, like Anjali-ji said."

"Me-ee-eh."

A loud bleat sounded. Arnav shifted slightly to watch Nani's pet goat - Lakshmi - amble into the poolside.

 _What the-! How did she escape from Nani's room? These servants can't keep track of one stupid goat!_

He shut his eyes as Khushi gave a loud gasp. Her _payal_ rang out - _step step step_ \- and then -

"What's a goat doing here?" she mused out loud.

"Beehhh" answered Lakshmi.

Arnav opened one eye cautiously. She was crouched on the floor, unheeding of her _sari_ , scratching behind Lakshmi's ears as she inspected the silver and blue " _ghagra_ " and matching "socks" the goat wore.

"Why are you in such a big house?" she asked her new friend, "Or are you lost? Come, I'll take you to Anjali-ji."

She reached out, but Lakshmi ran back inside with a bleat. Khushi took a few steps before halting abruptly at the glass doors. Then, she smacked herself on the head, the sound of it audible in the moonlit silence.

"Khushi," she muttered to herself, "Were you planning to follow that goat into his bedroom?"

Arnav felt his eyebrows come together in an involuntary frown.

 _She's very strange._

He shut his eyes as she turned again. Her _payal_ rang out as she strolled around the poolside and her floral scent wafted to him as she passed near his chair. Arnav only opened his eyes when he heard her move away. Now she stood on the other side of the pool, illuminated by moonlight, her face upturned to the stars. His eyes traced the curve of her cheek, the line of her jaw, the curl of her hair about her neck, the swell of her ...

He looked away, inhaling sharply as he realised where his thoughts had taken him.

"I'm so confused, Amma," came her voice, "I don't know what to do. I can't marry an atheist who doesn't smile ... even though he ..."

Arnav glanced at her.

 _Is she ... talking to the stars? To her parents?_

"He ... we ... I don't know," Khushi continued, "No one will talk to me about it. Everyone says that I'll know. How will I know? He won't even talk to me."

Something uncoiled in his chest at her words. Arnav opened his eyes as she crept back to the terrace on ringing feet, trying to ignore the guilt surging inside him for picking _this girl_ for his plans.

 _This is what you wanted, Arnav. She's following your script._

There was something almost heartbreaking about her innocence, as if it needed to be protected and nurtured.

 _An atheist who doesn't smile ... He won't even talk to me._

She looked for her parents in the stars.

 _I find Mamma in these plants._


	13. Chapter 11: Khushi

**Chapter 11: Khushi**

"This house is so big ..."

Khushi scampered along a corridor, her footsteps echoing in its empty silence.

She was lost.

 _Not lost! I just need to find Jiji and Anjali-ji_ , she reassured herself.

She'd returned to the terrace to find it empty, and had rushed down the spiralled staircase in an effort to catch them. But now, ten minutes later, she was no closer to finding her way in this maze of a house. Khushi bit her nails as she hurried, sometimes walking backwards, sometimes running, always hoping for a clue.

Or a sign board.

A door on her left clicked open, and a figure stepped into her path before she could properly register it. They collided.

"What the-!"

"Mmpfh!"

Her nose stung from the impact. But then heat uncoiled within her, turning her insides into molten lava, as she realised what had happened. Arnav-ji's hand seared through her blouse and sari where he gripped her shoulder. His chest rose and fell sharply against her palm, in tandem with her own erratic inhalations. She was aware of him as she'd never been of anyone else, all six feet of him somehow robbing her of breath.

Her hand left the soft fabric of his suit. His fingers trailed over her arm as he released her. Khushi drew a shaky breath, inhaling the sandalwood-cedar scent of him as she stepped away, and yelped at the sharp tug on her ear. Her earring - that pesky _jhumka_ from _Sarojini Markets_ that always caught on her clothes - had caught on his suit. Her hand shook as she wedged it into the too-small space between them, trying to free herself, but her fingers didn't want to obey. His breath tickled her forehead. Arnav-ji shifted with her, trying to give her space, and the butterflies in her tummy reacted to the slightest movement of his body against hers.

"One minute," his voice rumbled against her ear, "I'll get it."

He lifted her hand away before replacing it with his own. His fingers were warm where they brushed against her cheek and ear, and Khushi closed her eyes as he threaded the earring off. Free, she looked up at him. They stood so close that she could see the caramel flecks in his eyes. He had a small scar underneath one eyebrow.

Khushi stepped back hastily as he untangled the earring and offered it to her. His eyes didn't leave her as she pushed it into place, mentally scolding its boldness in having caught on _his_ suit.

"Are you okay?" Arnav-ji broke their silence.

His concern was so unexpected that Khushi could only nod in response, wondering where the cold and aloof man of earlier had gone.

"Are you lost?" he asked, "Dinner is usually served in the dining room."

"Th-that's where I'm going."

He pointed in the direction she'd come from, "That way."

 _Oh._

"I was taking a short-cut," she blurted.

The absurd claim hung between them, awkward and unwanted, as he frowned at her. He tilted his head, studying her as if she were a particularly vexing puzzle. Khushi stared back with all the defiance she could muster, trying to ignore the way her pulse reacted to his scrutiny. He pressed his lips together – _stop staring at them, besharam!_ – and he strode away without a word. After a moment of hesitation, Khushi followed him across two corridors and down some stairs. They arrived in the sitting area she'd left her family in. The conversation stalled.

"Khushi ..." Babu-ji frowned as he looked between them.

"She got lost," Arnav-ji spoke over the beginnings of Khushi's explanation.

 _How dare he!_

Indignation swelled inside her as Bua-ji bounded up, "Oh I'm so sorry _babua_ , this _Sanka Devi_ is always creating trouble."

"The fault is mine, Bua-ji" Anjali-ji came to stand next to her brother, "I left Khushi-ji and Payal-ji on the terrace. She must have tried to find me and found Chh- Arnav instead."

"You've arrived at the right time," his Nani smiled to distract them all, "Dinner is ready."

Resisting the urge to look at him, Khushi joined her sister as her tummy gave a little growl.

"Where did you go?" Jiji asked in undertone, "Anjali-ji said that you were with him."

"I'll explain later, Jiji," she said, "Let's eat first, I'm so hungry!"

"Amma and Babu-ji were worried."

"I'll say sorry at home," Khushi pouted, "Let's go, it feels like there are mice in my tummy."

Smiling affectionately, Jiji took her arm as they followed everyone to the dining room. "Did you speak to him?"

A frisson of energy zipped through her as she remembered the scorch of his fingers on her cheek. "No Jiji, we didn't speak. Sometimes I think that ..."

Khushi trailed off. There were only two seats left at the gigantic table. One between Amma and Bua-ji, and one next to _him_.

"Khushi-ji, sit here," Anjali-ji grinned, indicating to the seat Khushi definitely _did not_ want to sit in.

"N-no, I'll be fine over ..."

But Jiji had already claimed the other seat, leaving Khushi to shuffle reluctantly to the remaining chair. He didn't look up as she sat.

There was a buzz between them, as if he were a magnet and she a piece of iron filing, an undeniable _something_ that made it impossible for her to enjoy her food. The conversation eventually turned to Teej, and Khushi tried to concentrate as Anjali-ji invited them all to a temple function. She peeked at the man beside her, noting his obvious discomfort as his sister grinned at him.

The servants cleared their dishes away before bringing out the sweets.

"Delhi's food has its own charms, but I prefer sweets from Lucknow," Nani-ji smiled.

Grinning at the delights set on the table, Khushi reached for a _laddoo_ from the platter in front of her, and her fingers brushed his as he reached for one as well. They froze.

"It's not sugar free," she said softly.

"Oh," he replied just as softly, trapping them in their own little world, "Okay."

"I made you sugar free things," Khushi told him breathlessly, "They're in front of Aakash-ji."

Warmth spread through her as their eyes met. Time seemed to stand still as something unspoken passed between them, but the moment was broken when a spoon clattered on the other side of the table. Khushi blinked, blushing, as he signalled to a servant. He started to wave the tray away after taking one of everything, but she reached out to stop him.

She took a deep breath. "I'll have some too."

Her heart skipped a beat when he rewarded her with the tiniest of smiles. It transformed him.

All the air rushed out of her lungs.

 _Hai Devi Maiyya. Why did you make him so handsome? When he smiles he ... he ... What's he doing to me?_

She spent the rest of the meal in a fluster, aware of the slightest movement he made in his seat.

Later, when Babu-ji started saying his farewells, Arnav-ji insisted on driving them home. He ignored their collective protests - they'd arrived in rickshaws and could leave in them as well - and soon they were piled into a minivan. Babu-ji sat in front with him and Bua-ji and Amma sat in the middle row, leaving the back for Khushi and her sister.

Babu-ji made polite conversation as Arnav-ji drove confidently to Laxmi Nagar. Khushi noticed him turn the rear-view mirror so she could see him, and spent much of the journey twisting her hands in her lap, refusing to look up. He came inside readily when Bua-ji invited him for a cup of tea, but as Khushi hurried to the kitchen she noticed her family discreetly disappear into other parts of the house.

She stopped in the archway, cups in her hands, and let her eyes to study him as he looked at the photos hanging on the walls. He was clad in black from head to toe, with the exception of a thin silver tie, and Khushi had to admit that the colour suited him.

 _I wonder if he sleeps in a black suit._

Her mind supplied the image – Arnav-ji sprawled on a bed in black, that tiny smile playing on his lips. She choked on absolutely nothing, and that small sound announced her presence.

"What did your Fufa do?" he asked softly, glancing at her before returning to his study of Bua-ji's wedding photos.

 _Hey Devi Maiyya. What shameless thoughts!_

"He worked on the train lines," she handed him a cup, hoping he didn't notice the slight tremble of her hands.

"My Nana owned land in Lucknow, Delhi, and Agra," he sipped, "Mama used to work as an engineer before he started helping with AR. Aakash studied accounting, and now he looks after the Accounts department at AR."

"Only the men in your family study and work?" Khushi frowned.

"No, no. It's not like that. Nani never had to study, she married so young. Mami ... her family couldn't afford to send her to school past the tenth grade and she didn't want to study after marriage."

"Anjali-ji?"

"Di didn't get to go to college," he strode to the lounge and sat down heavily, leaving Khushi to follow.

 _Only you could hurt him with your very first question, Khushi._

"I ... I didn't mean to ..."

He only nodded, and the silence stretched until it was heavy with awkwardness.

"Are you fasting for Teej?" he asked suddenly.

"Ahh, I think so ..." Khushi squirmed in her seat, "Bua-ji says Jiji and I should fast for g-good hus-husbands."

Some of the spark came back into his eyes as he watched her stutter.

"Good husbands," he mused, "So you're assuming we're not going to work out."

"N-n-no. That's not ... I ... we ..."

"Relax, Khushi."

She shivered, liking the way her name sounded when it was wrapped in his voice.

"Give me your phone," he said a few minutes later, startling her into standing to snatch it from the dining table. She watched him type into it.

"Now you have my number. I asked to meet you a second time, whether we meet again is entirely up to you."

She could only nod as her fingers wrapped around the phone, still warm from his hands. He stood, and she stood with him to walk him to the door in silence.

"I'll see you later. Maybe," Arnav-ji said, his eyes shadowed, "Oh, and Khushi? I don't believe in all that fasting nonsense. Di is scheming something, but don't expect-"

"-I know," her heart sank as she remembered, "You don't believe in Devi Maiyya. You didn't sit in the pooja."

His expression closed off immediately, and she realised that she'd been unsuccessful in her attempt to keep the disappointment from her tone.

"No, I didn't," his tone was harsh, "It's all pointless, just for show. If there was a God in this world, then there wouldn't be any suffering."

"But God has given everything you have," her voice trembled, "Everything you are today, you are because of Him."

"Everything I am today, I am because of _me_. God has only taken. And what use is a God who expects you to beg?"

Astounded by his bitterness, she stood frozen in the doorway as he left without looking back. When he was gone, Khushi wiped the lone tear that had managed to escape.


	14. Chapter 12: Arnav

**Chapter 12: Arnav**

Sunday afternoon found Arnav pacing the length of his bedroom, aware that Nani and Di expected a response from him by the end of the day. He looked at his still and silent phone, willing Khushi to contact him.

 _Stay away, Arnav._

Everything about her - her traditional ways, her religious devotion, her goddamned pom-poms - should've sent him running. And yet, his mind played out one impossible fantasy after another. He imagined her by his side at work, brow furrowed as she considered fabric samples. He imagined her at the dining table, grinning as sweets were set in front of her. He saw them going on drives, he saw her smile at him in restaurants, he saw her clutch his arm as he escorted her to business events.

 _She, or her family, will reject the alliance soon enough._

A part of him recognised that he was being unfair, compromising her chances of marrying well – the more time she spent with him, the more gossip there would be when the rejection came. But he forgot all about that in her presence. Even her probing, disappointed comments about religion had failed banish his chaotic, treacherous musings.

The shrill ring of his phone broke through his thoughts. He answered it after a slight hesitation.

"Hello?"

Silence. And then a series of low beeps indicating that the call had been disconnected.

"What the-" he breathed, frowning at the now-blank screen.

 _Khushi._

He couldn't say how he knew. Only that he knew, with absolute certainty, that the call had come from her. Arnav redialled the number, anticipation triggering a tightness in his chest and shortening his breath.

"Hallo?" her Bua-ji answered.

He cut the call. Pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, Arnav contemplated the number on the screen. His thumb hovered over the CALL button.

 _Never seem overeager in a negotiation._

 _This isn't a negotiation, damn it._

 _Then what is it?_

 _Nothing. It is nothing._

He called again, refusing to examine his actions too closely. Khushi answered on the third ring.

"Hello?"

"Does your Bua-ji always answer your phone?"

There was a pause of several heartbeats, in which he could hear her breathing into the phone. His irritation subsided.

"Ar-Arnav-ji?"

"I'm returning your call."

"Oh. I was calling because ... because ... you see ... Babu-ji said ..."

 _Babu-ji said that you cannot see me again_ , he filled her silence, _that you cannot marry an atheist, no matter how rich he is._

Arnav closed his eyes as a cold, slick, hollowness opened inside his chest.

 _This is what you want, Arnav._

"Babu-ji said that ..." Khushi continued her halting reply, "... that I can see you again if I want."

"What?" his eyes snapped open.

Another silence, as if she'd used up her meagre courage in saying it once and couldn't repeat herself.

"And what do you want, Khushi?"

He waited, pulse roaring in his ears.

"I want to ask you some questions."

.

Three weeks and an emergency trip to Mumbai later, Arnav drove to Laxmi Nagar on a Friday night, ignoring Di and Aakash as they discussed – _loudly_ \- whether Chhote was falling in love. He scowled at his siblings before sliding out of the car. Her Bua-ji opened the door when he knocked, inviting him in with a smile, but he declined.

"We have reservations, Bua-ji. I'm just here for Khushi and Payal, Di and Aakash are waiting ..."

He lost track of the conversation as Khushi appeared in the archway behind Madhumati-ji, wearing a red _salwaar suit_ that flattered her figure. She joined her Bua-ji at the door, throwing him a shy smile in greeting as Payal followed, dressed in a sky blue _salwaar_ suit.

"I'll have them home before it's too late," Arnav promised, tearing his eyes from Khushi's scarlet clad figure.

"Take care of my girls, _babua_ , and drive safely. You never know what's going to happen at night, _Nand Kishore_! Why, just the other day I was in a rickshaw-"

"Bua-ji ..." Khushi interrupted.

"Yes, well. Go, go."

The girls followed him off the porch after saying their goodbyes, and Khushi's hand trembled in his as he helped her into the car. Arnav watched her in the rear view mirror as he turned the ignition. She sat between her sister and his, her hands wheeling in the air as she spoke to Di, but quieted when their eyes met in the mirror. Khushi held his gaze until he had to look away to navigate the narrow alleyways of her neighbourhood. He saw his brother grin in the passenger seat.

Khushi and Payal gasped when they stepped inside the restaurant, which was all sleek lines and dark woods softened by candles and lights that dropped from the ceiling. They were shown to their table by an overly curious man who spent his time guessing at the dynamics between the five of them. Arnav held a chair out for Khushi after helping Di take her seat, but she stepped around him to stand beside the chair across from it.

"What?" she asked when she noticed his frown.

"I was holding it out for you."

"Oh."

She shuffled back to his side, eyeing both him and the chair warily. He guided it under her as she sat, but she slipped, apparently not expecting the movement, and saved herself by gripping the table.

"Are you okay?" Arnav asked in undertone.

She nodded, hiding her blush behind a menu as he rounded the table to sit across from her. He felt his mouth tilt upwards.

 _Pagal. [Crazy]_

Aakash settled next to him, so the women were on one side of the rectangular table and they on the other.

"Bhai, I know you usually order meat outside the house, but here ... with Khushi-ji ..."

Arnav nodded, having already decided on vegetarian food. Conversation stalled as everyone perused the menu, with Di discussing options quietly with Payal.

"What will you have?" he asked Khushi some time later.

The sight of her absently biting her lip sent heat rushing through him.

"I don't know ..." she said distractedly.

"What looks good?"

"Tomato basil pasta."

"Get it. I'll order it too."

"No," Khushi's protest came swiftly, "Order whatever you want."

He shrugged, "I'll eat what you eat."

Her eyes lit up and a blush painted her cheeks pink. When the waiter returned to ask after their orders, he ordered the vegetarian pasta for them both before settling back into his chair. He felt himself relax as he watched his sister giggle. AR was growing in leaps and bounds, but the extra demands left too little time for family. Khushi fitted in almost seamlessly, joking with Aakash and gossiping with Di with a smile on her lips. She even tried to coax him into the conversation with open-ended observations.

 _I never thought she'd bring us together like this. No wonder Nani wants her for a daughter-in-law. She's ... kind of ... perfect._

Arnav turned his mind away from that line of thinking.

 _She wants to ask questions_ , he reminded himself, _and she won't like the answers._

They toasted Aakash's recent success in Nainital before digging in. The waiter returned with dessert menus after their plates had been cleared. Khushi perused hers with enthusiasm. She helped Di and Payal pick cakes and selected an ice cream for herself before sliding the small book towards him.

"You can't have much," she pointed out sadly.

"Aakash and I will have coffee."

Di threw him a wink as the dessert things were cleared away before suggesting that he and Khushi take a walk around the lake. Khushi looked to her sister for permission before nodding, her eyes asking a silent question as they met his. Arnav led her outside without comment, where they started on a slow circuit.

He offered his jacket when he saw her shiver in the cool night air. She looked both vulnerable and utterly irresistible in his clothes. He was content in their silence, though he noted that she seemed to be gathering herself up for something.

"Can we play a game?" Khushi asked a few minutes later.

"I don't like games."

His tone was sharper than he'd intended.

"It ... It's not really a g-game. It's more ... a way to get to know each other."

"Okay," he said softly, trying to keep the trepidation from his voice.

"I'll ask you a question, and you answer it, and then I'll answer it too. For example, what's your favourite colour?"

Arnav allowed his eyes to take in her slim figure, strolling beside him in crimson. "Red."

"I thought it was black," Khushi giggled, "I love all bright colours, the brighter the better. But I love yellow and green ... Now you ask a question."

Though simple, the game was smart. The person asking held the power, but had to make themselves vulnerable by answering too. He mulled over the possibilities.

 _I can't ask anything I'm not willing to share._

"Your favourite flower?" he ventured.

"Roses, red ones."

"I like roses too."

 _Mamma loved the red ones best._

"You like gardening, don't you?" Khushi asked, "Those pots and the terrace garden are yours."

"Yeah."

"It's beautiful."

Emotion swelled in his chest at the praise.

"I like to dance," she revealed, "I dance and sing all the time."

"Nani loves to dance and sing. So do Mami and Di."

"Not you?"

"I don't dance," he said simply.

"Your favourite holiday?" she asked.

"Uhhh ... Diwali, if I had to pick one."

"Holi."

"It's the colours isn't it?" Arnav smiled when she nodded, "Your favourite food?"

" _Jalebi_ ," came the instant reply, "I love _jalebi_. I eat them all the time, and I make them when I'm upset."

"I've always loved _kheer_."

"Sugar free?"

Arnav nodded, "Di makes it. And before her ..."

 _Mamma would make it for me whenever we had something to celebrate._

He felt Khushi take his hand in the silence that followed.

"My Amma and Babu-ji died in a car accident when I was eight," she said softly, "Jiji's Amma is my Maasi."

For a brief, absurd moment, Arnav thought she'd read his mind. But the truth of his parents' deaths had never been hidden from the girls or their families, though the circumstances had gone unmentioned. He squeezed her fingers instinctively, wanting to reassure and protect her at the same time. She didn't let go, and neither did he.

It shouldn't have felt so right.

"The sugar. Have you always ..."

"Yeah. Childhood diabetes."

Khushi only nodded, and the singing of the cicadas punctuated their short silence.

"Your favourite TV serial?" she asked some time later.

"What the-?" Arnav glanced at her, wondering if she was making fun. She blinked at him, innocent in her earnestness.

"I don't watch any," he answered shortly, "Mami watches one ... the music is irritating ... the man is always angry. Sagar? Or something."

" _Rabba Ve_!" Khushi squealed, "That's my favourite serial! Sagar is a media tycoon and Muskaan is a girl from Lucknow. She's sweet, and cute, and brave. He's angry and mean, but very handsome. Especially when ..."

Khushi looked away as she trailed off.

"Especially when ...?" he prompted.

"When he smiles."

He bit down his own smile, liking the way she blushed and determinedly looked elsewhere. Their silence flourished, but she broke it before it became awkward. He was beginning to suspect that she disliked silence.

"I had a question, Arnav-ji ... I don't know who to ask."

"Ask."

"Where's ... uhh ... where's Anjali-ji's husband?"

"No one told you?" Arnav frowned, "Aman's in the US, setting up our Chicago office. He calls Di every day."

"Jija-ji," Khushi corrected, "You shouldn't call him by his name."

"Aman. It's a long story, I'll tell you another time. Or you can ask Di."

"The other night, I heard you ..." she trailed off, her eyes opening wider as she realized what she'd revealed.

He smirked, enjoying her distress, "I'm an atheist who doesn't smile?"

"Awwww," she shoved at him, "You were awake!"

Khushi marched ahead, arms crossed, huffing as she muttered under her breath. He grinned at her when she glanced back. She increased her pace. His shoulders shook as he tried to contain his mirth, and then laughter burst out of him, ringing in the moonlit silence.

"You laugh?" Khushi turned, gaping at him in disbelief.

Her expression - eyes wide, mouth open in a perfect O - only made him laugh harder. She rushed ahead, glancing back as she stepped into the restaurant, and he watched her rejoin their siblings through the glass windows. He followed slowly, stopping by the counter to pay their bill before signalling to Aakash to meet him at the car.

Khushi's eyes met his in the mirror as he drove to Laxmi Nagar. His pulse quickened when she winked.

And later, as he lay down to sleep, his phone chimed with a text.

 _Good night, Arnav-ji._

Something akin to hope swelled within him.


	15. Chapter 13: Khushi

**Chapter 13: Khushi**

Arnav-ji was not good at texting.

Khushi sat on the bed, her phone in her hands, a cup of tea and a small plate of _jalebi_ balanced on a tray in front of her. She'd spent the last three days experimenting.

His messages were short, concise to a fault, and utterly unromantic. Questions – _Your favourite book?_ – were usually met with brief replies, and open-ended observations – _Anjali-ji is organising a picnic!_ – with silence.

 _Help me Devi Maiyya, he doesn't even understand emojis._

"Khushi?"

She slid the phone under her leg as her sister returned to their bedroom.

"So," Jiji spread her towel on the windowsill to dry, "Are you finally going to tell me about your walk with Arnav-ji? What did you two talk about?"

"Nothing," Khushi sipped her tea.

Her sister pouted, "You can't even tell your Jiji?"

"It was really nothing. Just festivals and flowers."

Jiji joined her on the bed, "He doesn't say much, does he?"

"Abhishek-ji doesn't speak a lot either," Khushi pointed out defensively.

She felt her cheeks heat. Her sister considered her as she sipped from a second cup.

"You really like him."

"I'm being smart," Khushi claimed, dodging Jiji's question, "Abhishek-ji lives in Delhi but your proposals came from all over. I want to stay near you, so I'll only consider men who live here."

"Is that so?"

"Did you know that it only takes twenty minutes to get to Abhishek-ji's house from Shantivan?"

"And how long does it take to get to a mental asylum?"

"Jiji!"

"When you were younger," Jiji giggled, "you thought that we should marry brothers. That way, we'd always be together."

"Abhishek-ji doesn't have a brother, only two younger sisters, so I had to look elsewhere."

Winking, Khushi gathered the cups and plate and headed out of the room. She paused on the other side of the door. Arnav-ji's rich laughter rang in her ears. She closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of his fingers against hers, recalling the heady mixture of sandalwood and cedar that had clung to her clothes long after she'd returned his jacket.

"Khushi," she heard his voice.

Her eyes flew open, but she was alone in the corridor. She shook her head at her own folly as she made for the kitchen. Babu-ji's voice floated to her as she set the tray on the counter.

"There's nothing to worry about, Jiji. Devyani-ji just called to clarify a few things."

Khushi froze.

"Like what?" Bua-ji asked.

"A dowry. She mentioned that —"

"—They're so rich, _Nand Kishore_ ," Bua-ji spluttered, "what do they need a dowry for?"

In the kitchen, Khushi took half a step forward, her heart hammering in her chest.

"Jiji ..." Babu-ji began.

"The nerve of them! He hasn't even said yes! Neither has our _Sanka Devi_. And they're asking—"

"—Jiji!" Babu-ji interrupted, "Devyani-ji called to say that they aren't expecting a dowry. She sensed hesitation on our part and wanted to clear that up."

"Oh."

Khushi released the breath she'd been holding, feeling her pulse calm a little.

"They don't hold with the old ways of thinking," her father continued, "They don't expect a dowry or gifts, or anything else you might want to call it. She also said something else."

"What?"

"To let them know as soon as Khushi makes a decision."

"The boy makes a decision," Bua-ji objected, "and then we ask the girl. It's how it's always been done."

"This is what they want."

"And what about what we want? What your _Parmeshwari_ wants?"

"I think it's clear what she wants. I'm less sure of him."

"Thank _Nand Kishore_. I thought you'd ignore the truth forever. He's Godless!"

"He has morals," her father sounded tired, "He respects his elders, he's smart, and kind. That's more than what could be said about some of the other men who came here."

"Kind!" Bua-ji scoffed, "Just how many more meetings are you going to allow? That Nirmala, who brought his photo, she's always coming over and asking for news. Sticking her nose where it doesn't belong. Your Garima doesn't know how to answer her."

"There will be gossip and rumour wherever there are people."

There was a heavy silence in the sitting room. Khushi turned away, her mind racing.

 _Amma will know what to do._

 _. - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - ._

The next morning, Khushi helped her mother hang out their washing.

"Amma," she began, "I have to ask you something."

"Mmmm?"

"Do you like Arnav-ji?"

Her mother finished hanging a _sari_ before turning. "Do you like him?"

"Amma ..." Khushi complained, "I asked you first."

"He comes from a good family," Amma listed, "He's always been polite and well-mannered, and he's hardworking, a self-made man. But he doesn't participate in religion, and his family has mentioned his temper more than once."

"So, you don't like him?" Khushi felt a coldness seep through her.

"I didn't say that. But it's you who has to spend a lifetime with him, child, not me."

"How did you know Babu-ji was the one you wanted to marry?"

"We had a lot in common and wanted the same things from life. We understood each other. It felt like fate, like Devi Maiyya was speaking to me. I can't have children and he already had your Jiji."

Khushi toyed with one of Jiji's _dupattas_. "Arnav-ji and I don't have much in common."

"You like bright colours, and he likes black. You could talk a mango into making pickles of its brothers, and he says very little. Devi Maiyya is your best friend, and he doesn't sit in _poojas_."

"That's not fair! He knows what it's like to lose someone. He values his family; he takes care of them. He has Anjali-ji as I have Jiji."

Her mother smiled, "So you do have something in common?"

Khushi turned away, shaking out and hanging some of her _kurtis_ and _dupattas_ as she gathered her courage.

"Arnav-ji makes my heart beat faster," she ignored her blush, determined to get answers, "Did that happen to you?"

"Ahh, that's a good thing. It means you like him."

Khushi spluttered, a denial on her lips, as Amma continued.

"It means you like him as a woman likes a man. Like your film heroines like their heroes."

Happiness burst inside her.

 _The dhak-dhak is normal! There's nothing wrong with me._

"I asked Jiji but she didn't mention anything like this," Khushi complained.

"Come to me with your questions. Your sister won't be able to answer you all the time."

"After the first day," Khushi confessed in a whisper, "I thought the _dhak-dhak_ was acidity. I thought I'd made his _barfi_ wrong. Is this love?"

Amma, who had started to giggle, suddenly became serious. "No. But it could turn into love if you give it time."

"But ..."

"Love isn't what you see in your films, Khushi. It isn't all stolen glances and promises to die if the other person leaves you. Love grows where there's trust and respect. A marriage is built on communication, dear. You need to know your partner, respect him and have his respect in return. You need to trust him, confide in him, share the deepest parts of yourself with him. The way he makes you feel is important, but consider whether you can build that kind of relationship with Arnav- _bitwa._ If you can, say yes. If not, say no. If you're not sure, keep meeting him until you can answer the question."

"Okay," Khushi turned her attention back to the clothes, her mind full of questions she had no answers for.

She spent the day in a haze, pondering her father's words, her mother's advice, her sister's blushing remarks about Abhishek-ji. She thought about Arnav-ji's smile, the things he'd said to her, and the things he'd never said.

That night, she prepared for sleep as quietly as she could, mindful of her sister's exhaustion. Jiji had spent most of the day with her in-laws, busy with wedding planning, and had fallen asleep almost instantly. Khushi carefully slid into their narrow bed, cocooning herself in the blanket.

Sleep refused to come.

The truths she'd worked hard to ignore couldn't be avoided any more. Arnav-ji didn't share himself with her. He didn't speak of their future. He didn't ask about her dreams, her goals, what she wanted from life, and he never spoke of their married life.

 _Give me strength, Devi Maiyya._

Khushi reached for her phone, finding his name and almost pressing the call button before recalling the late hour. She typed out a quick message instead, praying that he would answer. He didn't disappoint her.

 _Tomorrow. 10am._


	16. Chapter 14: Arnav

**Chapter 14: Arnav**

"Someone will see us."

"There's no one here, Khushi."

He traced his fingers across her cheekbone, drawing her attention back where it belonged – on him. She leaned against his car, trembling in his jacket as he caressed her lips with his thumb.

Her eyes fluttered closed. "Arnav ..."

"Ssshhh," he soothed.

Using two fingers under her chin, he lifted her face to his. He heard her sharp, short inhalations as he bent his head, intent on her lips.

Arnav's eyes snapped open at a series of shrill beeps from his phone.

 _Damn._

He stared at the ceiling, trying to recapture the feeling of having her so close, but the dream faded fast. Sighing, he reached for his phone and cleared the alarm before sliding out of bed. Last night, the thought of meeting Khushi alone had been tempting enough for him to shift a morning meeting, but now he wondered if it was wise.

When a jog and a quick shower failed to provide an alternative plan, he picked up his phone to cancel on her.

 _I need distance._

"Chhote?"

Arnav glanced up, slipping the phone into his pocket. Di stood at the door, smiling as she fiddled with her favourite green _sari_. It was one of the first things _AR Designs_ had made, an exclusive piece he'd sketched himself. He snatched his cravat from the bed as she approached.

"I have to talk to you."

"Di, I'm running a little late, can it wait?" he asked, knotting the cravat with practised ease.

"No it can't. Nani called Khushi-ji's parents last night."

His hands froze, "Why?"

"She thought they might be hesitating, afraid that we'd ask for a dowry."

"What nonsense," he turned to fish his waistcoat out of the wardrobe.

"You like her, don't you Chhote?"

 _I burn for her._

"When are you going to say yes?" his sister prodded.

 _Never._

Arnav released an exasperated sigh as he turned, "Di, seriously? I don't even know her. This is all nonsense anyway."

She smiled indulgently as she placed a hand to his cheek. Her four foot Chhote had grown to six feet but this gesture hadn't changed.

"You know ... I was the only one in the room when you said your first word. You can't hide anything from me. You like Khushi-ji."

"It's not like that, Di," Arnav rolled his eyes.

"You'll see. One day, a girl will become your whole world. You won't even know when—"

"—Yeah, yeah," he interrupted the beginnings of her rant, "I won't be able to breathe without her. Sounds like weakness to me."

"Be careful, or she'll slip through your fingers like sand."

There was a tightening in his chest as his mind played it out - never seeing Khushi again, never hearing her take his name, never holding her hand in his. Khushi clad in another man's jacket, trembling as he bent to kiss her. He recoiled from the thought, bile rising at the back of his throat.

"Chhote?"

Arnav glared at his sister, pulse thundering in his ears as he battled a rising tide of emotion.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

 _Get a grip, Arnav._

He took two deep breaths. "Yeah, I think I just need to eat."

"Come downstairs, breakfast is ready," Di didn't look convinced.

He followed her to the door, locking it behind her before sagging against it. His eyes closed as something unravelled inside him.

 _One more time. Just this last time, to work her out of my system. To drink my fill of her eyes and smile._

. - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - . - .

Arnav parked his car on the crowded streets and battled his way into the _Sarojini Nagar Markets_. He found Khushi after a few minutes of searching - she'd asked him to meet her at the _channa_ stall but hadn't mentioned which one. She twisted the strap of her bag as she scanned the crowd, the reds and yellows of the cloth clashing astonishingly with the green and pink of her _salwaar_ suit.

 _I love all bright colours, the brighter the better,_ he recalled her words as he approached.

Greeting him with a small smile, Khushi led him to a small eatery tucked away in a corner, ordering two _chais_ and a plate of _samosas_ before sitting at a table at the back. Arnav ignored her mumbled protests and paid for the food when it arrived, and then they sat in silence, acutely aware that their families wouldn't approve of this unsanctioned, unchaperoned meeting.

 _Be careful, or she'll slip through your fingers like sand._

Arnav took in the tightness around her mouth and the frown that refused to disappear. "Khushi, is everything okay?"

She shook her head.

"Khushi? What's wrong? Talk to me."

"I want to ask you some questions," she directed her words to the table, "but they're personal."

"Ask them."

His eyes followed her fingers as she traced the design printed onto the tabletop.

"Do ... do you think we're co-compatible?" she asked after several heartbeats.

Arnav took a moment to compose his answer, unwilling to lie but unable to let her go by revealing the truth.

"There's certainly something between us. Something that wasn't there with the other women I met."

"Were there a ... a l-lot of w-women?"

A fierce protectiveness swelled inside him at the tremble in her voice, pushing him towards honesty despite the instincts that urged otherwise.

"I met four before you. I didn't feel a connection to any of them."

"There were five men before you," Khushi revealed.

Jealousy flared, catching him by surprise. Five other men had stared at her, had drunk tea made by her delicate hands and taken in the brightness of her smile and the spark in her eyes. His fingers curled into a fist. Five other men could've dreamt of her as he did every night.

"Were there oth-others?" she asked quietly, "When you were studying overseas? Or after?"

He realised, all at once, what was happening. Khushi had moved beyond the thrill of the undeniable attraction between them and was concentrating on their future. She was finally asking the questions she needed to ask.

 _This is the beginning of the end._

"There have been three," Arnav answered, his eyes roving over her in an attempt to memorise every detail, "Sheetal in college, Lisa when I returned to India, then Lavanya. I broke it off with Lavanya over a year ago."

Khushi nodded, having apparently expected that response, and somehow, her acceptance hurt him more than her tears or anger would have. He braced himself for the inevitable follow-up about intimacy, dreading telling her that he'd been intimate with some of them, but she surprised him by moving on.

"You're never going to be religious, are you?"

"I lost my faith a long time ago. I don't want it back."

"Your mother?"

Arnav looked away from her, unease rippling along his skin because _she_ – this vibrant girl from Lucknow with a smile that haunted his nights –had read him so easily. The urge to flee grew stronger, until he wanted nothing more than to leave her sitting here with her probing questions and too-astute observations.

 _But this situation is not of her making. I owe her this much._

 _And I need her to say no._

"Next question," he softened the warning by twisting his mouth into something resembling a smile.

She nodded. There were a few minutes of strained silence, in which her eyes met his before darting away, only to return seconds later. His heart soared when he realised that she was addicted to him as he was to her.

"Why are you opting for an arranged marriage?" Khushi mumbled her next question, "I wouldn't have expected it. You're foreign educated and modern."

"Nani can be ... forceful," Arnav sidestepped the issue of his stance on marriage, "She wants me to marry before Aakash and I'm too busy to look myself."

"Did you want to meet me?"

"Yes," he reassured her, "I picked the girls I met myself."

"I didn't want to meet you at first," she confessed, "The differences in the wealth and class of our families were too much. But Nirmala-Aunty was insistent. She said that your family was eager to discuss things, that you didn't care about any of that. Plus, your Nani is a respected figure in our society. I'm ... I'm glad I changed my mind."

She blushed prettily as she finished the last of her tea. Warmth spread through him at the sight.

"Any more questions?"

"N-no."

"I'll drive you home," he offered, standing.

"No, Jiji came to the markets with me. We'll go home together."

"I'll help you look for her."

Khushi stuck close to him as they navigated the narrow streets, gushing about her sister's fiancé and the upcoming wedding. To hear her tell it, "Abhishek-ji" had hung the moon.

"What's his surname?" Arnav interrupted her besotted rant.

"Bachchan."

"What the-?" he halted, turning to look at her.

She smiled mischievously before giggling, "Got you! Varma. Abhishek Varma."

One corner of his mouth tilted up in amusement.

Khushi suddenly pitched forward, shoved unceremoniously towards him as a man barrelled past. Arnav caught her on instinct, his hands on her shoulders as he steadied her. Air hitched in his lungs as she blinked up at him, her cheeks and nose red.

 _Damn, she's beautiful._

 _This is the last time I'll see her._

The realisation was like a kick to his stomach. He released her reluctantly, his fingers trailing down her arms.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly.

Nodding, Khushi straightened her _dupatta_ without meeting his eyes. She then stood on tip toe to scan the crowd, clutching his arm for balance.

"I see Jiji!" she waved energetically, "Let's go."

She led the way in silence, and his mind ticked over as he tried to fathom her sudden quiet. When they reached her, Payal looked between them, her eyes narrowed in concern.

"Are you okay?" she asked Khushi.

Khushi nodded, smiling, before turning to him, "We have to go home now, or they'll ask where we were. Bye, Arnav-ji."

He nodded. She gave a small wave as she walked away. When she was out of sight, he uncurled his fingers to reveal a small, pink pom-pom in his palm, torn stealthily from her sleeve.

"Bye Khushi," he whispered.


	17. Chapter 15: Khushi

**Chapter 15: Khushi**

They asked the rickshaw- _bhaiyya_ to drop them around the corner from the house, out of sight. Khushi skipped ahead as Jiji paid the fare.

 _He wanted to meet me. He thinks we're compatible. He likes me._

 _Okay, he didn't say the last one._

But he didn't need to. It was there in the way he'd caught her and in his patience as he'd answered her questions without complaint. It was there in the way he took her name.

 _The other women ..._

Khushi shook her head, trying to dismiss her worries. Whoever they'd been, they were no longer a part of his life. He'd agreed to consider women for Nani-ji and had picked her himself.

 _Surely he wouldn't have agreed if he still wanted any of them._

She paused on the verandah, allowing Jiji to walk past her and into the house. Arnav-ji had all but admitted that his complicated relationship with faith stemmed from his mother.

 _I don't understand. I turned to Devi Maiyya when Amma and Babu-ji ... Devi Maiyya would have granted him solace, given him peace, and helped him move on._

 _He doesn't force his views on others_ , her mind argued.

There was a permanent temple inside the home he'd built. The rest of his family practiced there, and even invited their friends for functions.

 _He won't stand beside me, but he won't stop me either._

Khushi agonized as she stepped into the house, trying her best to reconcile the future she'd envisioned all her life with this new reality.

 _Khushi! You should've asked him about this when you had the chance._

"What happened to your sleeve?" Jiji asked, now busy chopping potatoes in the kitchen.

"Huh?"

"Your sleeve. The pom-pom is missing on that side."

Gasping, Khushi turned in a circle on the spot, searching for the errant pink ball on the ground.

Jiji laughed, "It probably fell off in the market, _Pagal_."

Khushi released a heavy sigh as she readied the water for _daal_.

"I don't know what's wrong with me, Jiji. It feels like everything is ..." she waved her hand, trying to find a word that described the tumult inside her, "... uncertain."

"What did Arnav-ji say?" Jiji's tone sharpened.

"Nothing! He answered my questions, that's all."

"And ..."

"And ... I don't know. What do you think, Jiji?"

"Religion is a big part of your life. Do you think you can marry someone who doesn't share that?"

"But he does share it, sort of," Khushi argued, "He came to the _aarti_ , and he doesn't stop his family from praying. He hasn't even objected to my fasting on Teej. But ... but he did say he doesn't believe in it."

"Is that enough? Will he sit beside you for _havans_? Will he take _aarti_ with you? Will he be there for you for your parent's death anniversary?"

"I didn't ask," she admitted in a small voice.

"Ask him. Don't have expectations of him, Khushi, you'll only be disappointed."

Khushi nodded glumly. She felt her sister take her hand.

"I've seen what's in your eyes. He makes you happy. The last thing you do every night is message him, and the first thing you do every morning is reach for your phone. You count down the hours until you can see him again. You rush to the phone every time it rings, hoping it's him or his family, saying yes."

"That's not—"

"Shush!" Jiji hugged her tightly, "If you want this, then I want it for you too."

She blushed, glad that Jiji couldn't see her face. They broke apart as Amma entered the kitchen. Khushi discreetly wiped her tears on her _dupatta_.

"What are you two doing?"

"Nothing Amma, we're just making lunch," Jiji answered.

"Potatoes!" Khushi pointed to the pile set on the counter, "If you send me to the market, then I'll come back with potatoes."

"Let me do it," Amma smiled, " _Payaliya_ , your Bua-ji needs help with some embroidery."

Khushi worked in compatible silence with her mother, falling into familiar patterns in the small kitchen. She took advantage of their isolation.

"Amma ... I uhh ... I want to talk about something."

"Hmmm?" her mother hummed.

Khushi dipped a spoon into her pot, stirring the contents as she gathered herself.

"I have a friend who likes a boy ..." she began.

"I see," her mother turned to her, eyes narrowed, "Is it Preeto?"

Khushi quailed. Her palms were sweaty and her heart thundered against her rib cage.

 _Hey Devi Maiyya, give me strength._

"No," she answered.

"Varsha?"

"Amma stop-"

"-Ananya? Diya?"

"It doesn't matter who it is," Khushi interjected, "what matters is that she likes a boy. But he's ... he's had relationships before. Girlfriends."

Amma turned back to the potatoes, "And this bothers your ... friend?"

"Not as much as it should," Khushi fretted.

"This man. Has he been close to his girlfriends?"

"Amma ..." she rolled her eyes, "... of course he was close to his girlfriends!"

"No, I mean ..." Amma sighed, "What do your silly heroes do with their girlfriends in your films?"

"They're not silly!" she cried, "They buy their girlfriends flowers, give them presents, watch films with them, and take them nice places to eat."

"And ..."

"And ..." Khushi blushed, realizing where this was going, "they compliment them, tease them, hold hands with them."

"And ..."

"Kiss them," she whispered to her mother.

"How do you feel about Arn- I mean, how does your ... _friend_ ... feel about this man kissing his girlfriends?"

 _Oh._

Khushi recalled holding hands with him as they strolled around the lake. The thought of him doing even that with anyone else was enough to sour her stomach. But kissing?

 _What if there was more than kissing? What if he'd ... touched ... them?_

She fought back tears. She knew that men and women touched, that fingers crept under _pallus_ of _saris_ , across bare backs and into shirts. She recalled, too vividly, the trick that Raj had played on Simran in _Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge_. Lipstick marks, all over his chest. Another thought occurred to her.

 _What if they'd touched him? Left lipstick all over him?_

Her tummy twisted at the thought. Khushi fled to her bedroom and tried to muffle her crying in a pillow. Everything inside her ached.

Her mother joined her soon after. "Shhhh, child. It will be okay."

"No it won't ... He ... They ..."

"Shhhh."

She buried herself in Amma's lap, weeping her misery for several long minutes. Her heart, having laid claim to him long ago, twisted in anguish. When her tears slowed, Khushi looked up. A truth finally found its way to her lips.

"I can't do this Amma. I like him too much."

The hopes and dreams she'd woven around him cracked, leaving an ashen taste in her mouth.

"If it was me," Khushi sobbed, "If I'd had ... had b-boyfriends, they wouldn't even look at me. They'd say I was immoral. Un-untrustworthy. And he ... there have been th-three ..."

"Shhhhh, child. Devi Maiyya will guide you through. She'll give you strength."

"I'm tired of being strong."

"Oh, Khushi."

Amma stroked her hair as she lay there, trying to bring some order to her confused thoughts.

"What would you do, Amma, if you were me?"

Her eyelids fluttered closed as she waited, her body exhausted by sorrow. And finally, Amma spoke.

"I'd remind myself that people make the best decisions that they can at the time. Sometimes, with hindsight, we wish we could change the past, but in the moment, we all act according to what we think is best."

She started to speak, but Amma wasn't finished.

"And I'd ask myself whether it was more important to be the first woman he'd touched, or the last."


	18. Chapter 16: Arnav

**Chapter 16: Arnav**

He hadn't seen or heard from Khushi in four days, since he'd left her at the markets.

And really, it was for the best.

 _I know I'm not marrying her. But ... why do I keep acting as though I will?_

He'd had thrown himself into work, focussing on contracts, meetings, and deals in a futile attempt to dismiss his inexplicable behaviour. His mind, when it wasn't distracted, had taken to tormenting him with recollections of her smile. He'd pulled out his phone and scrolled through her messages countless times in between meetings, smiling at her jokes and crazy observations before catching himself. Her pink pom-pom burnt a hole in his pocket.

Aware that the college semester had started, Arnav had kept his distance, waiting with uncharacteristic patience for a rejection from her father. But he wondered at the delay.

 _Has she told them about my girlfriends? Perhaps her father is willing to overlook my shortcomings, believing my wealth to be ample compensation._

 _Or has she kept silent, afraid of the consequences? Six failed alliances will not endear her to suitors._

The melancholy that had accompanied him for the last few days grew heavier at the thought of a seventh suitor, but Arnav dismissed it as he climbed the steps to his home. It was late, and he needed a coffee.

There was a squeal of delight as he pressed the doorbell. The door opened to reveal Nani and Di, wearing identical grins. Nani took his _aarti_ at the door.

"Nani! What are you doing?"

"I have to ward off the evil eye, son," she explained.

"What the-?"

Di dragged him inside by the arm, "We have some great news, Chhote, come and sit down!"

Mama, Mami, and Aakash looked up expectantly as Di led him into the sitting area.

"Uhh ... are you all okay?"

"Hello, hi, bye-bye. He's asking if we is _phine_."

"Will someone tell me what the hell is going on?" his patience frayed.

"Shashi Gupta called an hour ago," Nani began, and Arnav felt a tightening in his chest, "Khushi- _bitiya_ said yes."

He heard the words dimly, as if they'd echoed to him through a long, dark tunnel.

"Khushi ... said ... yes?" he repeated softly.

"Chhote, you like her too, don't you?" Di asked eagerly, "Should we call and confirm? We can organize the Shagun for tomorrow evening, and hold the engagement next week."

"No."

"Wh-what?"

"No one's organizing anything," Arnav spat, "There won't be any wedding."

"But Bhai ..."

"I said it once, Aakash. I won't repeat myself."

"Chhote," Nani's voice rose, "why are you refusing her? What possible reason could you have? You've met her so many times, and Anjali and Aakash tell me that you get along."

 _The problem was never Khushi._

Arnav closed his eyes at the bitter reminder of what he felt for her and how deeply he wanted her in his life. But he couldn't – _wouldn't_ – trap Khushi by tying her down. She needed to be free to leave him if she ever wanted to.

 _I'm not exactly husband material._

"Chhote, please talk to us," implored Di, "tell us what's wrong."

He looked into his sister's eyes, so like their mother's, and willed himself to stay strong.

"Arnav- _bitwa_ is correct," grinned Mami, "our foreign-returned son can't marry some girl from a poor-house. We'll find him a more suitable girl. Rich and _beautiphool_."

Burning with rage, he started to correct her before realising that defending Khushi would rip through his façade.

"There won't be any wedding," he announced instead, "not now, not ever. Not to Khushi, or any other girl you find."

Ignoring his sister's pleas to stay, Arnav stormed out of the house. He drove recklessly to the farmhouse, weaving his car in and out of traffic.

 _"My Chhote will make the most handsome groom. But we'll have to take care; his bride will refuse to come to the altar if she realises how grumpy he is!"_

Memories of his mother surfaced as he neared his destination. She'd loved to talk about his bride - the woman who would one day brighten their lives with just her smile - especially in the days leading up to Di's wedding.

 _"How can you be this messy, Chhote?" she'd sighed, "Your bride will think I raised a slob!"_

Even today, he kept his bedroom, his home, and his office immaculate, a part of him unwilling to disappoint his mother with unnecessary untidiness.

 _"And what will my_ bahu _think when she sees your untucked shirt?" she'd asked, "You look like a ruffian."_

Even today, he never stepped out of his house in anything less than a formal suit. His shirt was always tucked in.

Later, as he lay on a white bench, staring up at the stars, he wondered what his mother would say if she could see him. He felt closer to her here, in the garden she'd lovingly planned, planted and maintained, than he did anywhere else.

"Mamma," he whispered to the stars as he toyed with small pink ball, "I don't know what to do."

Perhaps Khushi's parents spoke back to her but Mamma remained silent.

Hours passed.

When he turned to leave, ambling to his car on reluctant feet, he found a single red rose waiting for him on his windshield, carried there by the fitful breeze. Khushi's favourite flower, and his own. Mamma had planted them everywhere, smiling to herself as she claimed the flowers were the brightest things in her life aside from the two of them. Now, almost twenty years later, Arnav understood what she'd meant. Rathna Raizada Malik had been deeply unhappy in her marriage. His father's adultery had been the last in a string of injustices she'd suffered.

The rose joined Khushi's pom-pom in his pocket.

Arnav entered the house silently, using the light from his phone as a makeshift torch as he navigated the stairs. He paused at his door, distracted from his gloom by a light coming across the hallway.

"Di?" he knocked on her door.

"Chhote? Come in."

His sister sat in the middle of her bed, lit by her bedside lamp. She moved her book and iPad and indicated that he sit in the space she'd created.

"Did you go to the farmhouse?"

Arnav nodded, not needing to explain that he hadn't even stepped inside their mother's childhood home. Di understood where he went, and _why_ he went.

"Talk to me, Chhote. Tell me what's going through that mind of yours."

He closed his eyes and leaned back, trying to put what he felt into words.

"Mamma was so unhappy with our father," he began cautiously, "she might ... she could've left him if we weren't in the picture."

"She would've stayed no matter what. She believed in her marriage vows."

"She shouldn't have made those vows. She could have found happiness with someone else."

He felt Di take his hand.

"Chhote, you were so young when they died, right at that age when you started to think seriously about relationships. Of course it's coloured the way you approach these things ... but ... you really don't see the beauty of marriage? The promise of commitment, of support, of lifelong friendship and love?"

He grimaced at the mention of love but didn't open his eyes. "I was fifteen when I first overheard people wondering if I was like him. They said that treachery was in his blood and that I was doomed to repeat his mistakes."

"Don't you trust yourself, Chhote?"

Arnav scoffed, "I will never be like him, Di. Never."

"Then ... You don't trust Khushi-ji?"

"I've met her four times," he pointed out, "Trust doesn't even factor into this."

"I know her. She would never-"

"-And it was stamped on our father's forehead? That he would ..." he inhaled sharply, trying to bury the bitter rage that swelled within him, "Mamma thought she knew him too."

They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. Khushi's smiling face swam against his eyelids.

"I can give Khushi everything without marriage, Di," Arnav said softly, "I can commit to her for the rest of my life."

"Live-in?" Di was incredulous, "You're suggesting live-in with Khushi-ji?"

"No," he fought a wave of despair, "She only _thinks_ she wants me. All she sees, all her family sees, is what we've allowed them to see."

 _By the time she realises there's nothing behind this shell of a man, it'll be too late._

"Then tell her everything," Di urged.

 _Impossible._

"She's innocent," he directed his words to the ceiling, "And I'm broken. She's probably dreamt of Shah Rukh Khan on a white horse since she was a child."

"Salman Khan. Khushi-ji fancies Salman Khan."

He smiled into the silence that followed, warmth spreading through him.

"You've told me about your girlfriends," Di's voice was soft, "but you've never spoken about commitment. Not like this. It's always just been you, the apartment you keep, and the overnight _business meetings_ in Agra."

"Di ... I ..."

"You're a grown man," she paused, "I didn't understand at first, but I think I understand now. If you thought you weren't getting married, why would you ..."

"Khushi won't understand."

"Mmmm. Leave Khushi-ji to me, Chhote."

"She said yes," Arnav couldn't keep the wonder out of his tone, "despite everything."

"Of course she said yes! My Chhote is perfect for her."

He swatted his sister's hands away as she tried to poke him in the stomach. "Di!"

They fought like children, Di's giggles threatening to wake the entire household. When he stole her book, she confiscated his phone. He threatened to throw her iPad into the wall but gave it back when she mused, out loud, about how he'd fare if she lit a mosquito coil in his room as he slept.

 _Damned allergies._

"I'm going to miss this," she sighed, handing him his phone.

He checked discreetly for a message from Khushi. Nothing.

"I'll visit you every chance I get," he promised rashly, his heart constricting.

"You'll be settling into your new life with Khushi-ji," she said confidently, "and I'll be exploring a new country."

"You'll love Chicago, Di."

"I don't care about Chicago right now, Chhote. I miss my husband."

Di's smile slipped as she looked at the wedding photo on the wall.

"I'm sorry, Di," Arnav pulled her into a hug.

"Shhh! You didn't send him away. He volunteered to go, despite all your protests," she smiled through a sob, "Idiot man."

Arnav gave a short laugh as he handed her a tissue. "I'm telling him you said that."

"He won't believe you," Di looked at her wedding photo again, "Chhote, why did you say yes when Aman-ji asked if he could marry me?"

"What do you mean?" he frowned.

"I mean ... why didn't you suggest that we live together without marriage? So I wasn't trapped ..."

"You love Aman."

"That's not an answer."

"Di, stop being ridiculous. People would've said things behind your back. To your face, even. They'd gossip about you, say things ... and when you and Aman had kids, they'd say they were born out of wedlock," Arnav shivered at the thought.

"You like Khushi-ji, you can commit to her, but she ... she doesn't deserve that consideration?" Di asked quietly.


	19. Chapter 17: Khushi

**Chapter 17: Khushi**

Khushi fought back tears as she mixed the batter for _jalebi_. The Raizada family hadn't been in contact since last night, and now it was mid afternoon. She knew that the chances of Arnav-ji's answer matching hers diminished with every hour that passed without any word from him or his family.

She'd agonised over her decision, stressing about his past relationships and his stance on religion and writing list after list of questions she needed to ask when they next met. And she'd eventually come to realise that his answers, whatever they were, wouldn't change hers. His lack of faith was a part of him, it made him _him_ , and as long as he never interfered with her own beliefs and practises, Khushi knew she could be happy. As for his girlfriends, those faceless women who might have touched him in ways that she couldn't imagine, Arnav-ji couldn't go back and change the past, even if he wanted to. All he could do, _all they could do_ , was look towards the future. And Khushi knew, without a doubt, that she wanted a future with him.

 _I'll move on if he says no_ , she promised herself, _I won't let him destroy me_.

But her heart quailed at the prospect.

She'd carried her phone everywhere last night, sure that he'd call when he found out that she'd agreed. She'd fallen asleep in the sitting room - her phone still clutched in her hand - and dreamt of him. It was a hazy, confused dream where he'd chased her through a fogged landscape, calling her name. When he'd caught her, Khushi had buried herself in him, hiding from his all-knowing eyes. She'd gasped as his talented fingers had traced fire over her back and neck, but when she'd tried to get away, he'd held her tighter. His hands had cupped her face and his breath had mingled with hers as he'd leaned in, close, and then closer.

 _Hai Devi Maiyya, what a dream. How shameless I've become!_

In her distraction, Khushi forgot to keep her arms away from the splattering oil. Jiji came running as she squealed in pain, a large drop burning her forearm.

"Khushi! Are you all right?"

Jiji took her arm, inspecting it carefully while reaching for the box of first aid supplies they kept on the shelf. Khushi snatched her hand away, this final injustice just too much for her tortured heart.

"I can do it, Jiji."

She turned away so her sister couldn't see the tears that threatened to spill. But Jiji was insistent, ignoring Khushi's protests as she gently applied a cream before bandaging the wound.

"He'll call, Khushi. Devi Maiyya won't let you down," Jiji whispered.

Khushi could only nod. She returned to the _jalebi_ after her sister left, losing herself in the rhythms of frying the batter and dipping the results in syrup. She ate mindlessly, the taste transporting her instantly to her childhood kitchen, her mother standing beside her as they made _jalebi_ together. She had a small mountain of _jalebi_ on her plate when she was done, a pile of warm golden spirals that usually brought joy to her heart but today only made her smile thinly.

Babu-ji looked up from his newspaper as she placed the plate on the dining table and caught her hand as she tried to escape.

"Everything will work out for the best, child," he reassured her as he pulled her into a hug.

Khushi nodded against her father's _kurta_ before venturing outside. Happy-ji approached when he saw her appear on the veranda, smiling as he wiped his hands on a rag already saturated with grease.

"Namaste, Khushi-ji."

"Namaste, Happy-ji. How are you?"

"Good, good. Did that stern man find you?"

"What stern man?"

"The man who was here this morning. He was in a big white car. He sat in it for hours, staring towards your house. When I asked him what he was doing, he said your name before driving away."

 _Arnav-ji? Why had he been here, and for hours? Had he been gathering the courage to accept ... or to say goodbye?_

All at once, Khushi realised she was without her phone. She ran to the kitchen, leaving her bewildered friend staring after her, and searched frantically for the tiny black box that connected her to _him_.

"Jiji!" she called when her phone didn't appear on the countertops, "Jiji, have you seen my phone?"

"No..." came Jiji's distracted reply from outside.

" _Sanka Devi_! Stop yelling so loudly, all of Laxmi Nagar can hear you."

"I need my phone, Bua-ji, have you seen it?"

"I hate that thing, always buzzing and chirping and making me nervous," her aunt complained from her bedroom, "You should stick to the landline."

As if brought to life by Bua-ji's praise, the ancient black phone started ringing.

" _Hai re Nand Kishore_ ... there it goes ..." Bua-ji shuffled to the sitting room.

Khushi searched in her bedroom, unheeding of the mumble of Bua-ji's voice as she spoke to whichever neighbour or friend who'd called. It wasn't on her desk (Khushi quickly paid her respects to Devi Maiyya, asking for strength and protection), it wasn't under the bed (Khushi made a mental note to sweep under there, sneezing from the dust), and it wasn't in her _almaari_ (Khushi noted the messy pile of _kameezes_ and _dupattas_ and vowed to be more careful when putting the washing away).

"Khushi!" called Bua-ji.

"In a minute, Bua-ji," she shouted back, now searching the chest of drawers in her room.

"Khushi!"

Sighing, she gave up and joined Bua-ji in the living room. Her eyes lit up when she spied her phone on the dining table, sitting innocently next to the plate of _jalebi_.

"I found it!" she grinned, rushing to her phone and dancing with it held high, "I found it, I found it."

" _Parmeshwari_! Sit down and listen to what I have to say!"

But Khushi was too busy rejoicing. She bounced to her Bua-ji's side and pulled her up, playing a song from her phone to accompany them. "Dhinka Chika" filtered through the house as Khushi forced Bua-ji to gyrate to the beat.

"Khussi ... Khushi ... _Sanka Devi_! Listen to me."

"No! First dance with me!" Khushi commanded before running outside to grab her sister.

Soon Khushi was dancing around Bua-ji and Jiji, who seemed oddly unwilling to join in.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her arms still in the air.

"Oh, _Titaliya_ , I've been trying to tell you. Devyani Raizada called."

"Oh," Khushi slumped into a dining chair.

"Arnav- _babua_ ... he said ... he said ..."

"What?" she whispered, "What did he say?"

 _Please, please, please, Devi Maiyya. Please._

"He said yes!" Bua-ji broke into a wide smile, "Apparently he's a madman, to say yes to a crazy girl like you."

Her entire body sagged from relief. She was glad she was already sitting down. Khushi blinked back tears as Jiji hugged her.

"I told you, didn't I?" her sister whispered.

 _Yes. He said yes._

Her tears overflowed as Babu-ji and Amma walked through the door, their arms full of vegetables from the markets.

"He said yes," Khushi ran to them and hugged her father, "Babu-ji, he said ... he said yes."

Later, she sat cross-legged on her bed, staring at her phone. She'd spent the afternoon celebrating with her family and making sweets for the next day. He and his family were coming to complete the _Shagun_ ritual, the first step of many on their journey to wedded bliss. Khushi had laughed until she cried, happiness threatening to explode from her pores.

It still felt like a dream. She needed to hear it from him. Khushi's phone chimed with a message as she scrolled through it to find his name, and her pulse quickened as she realised it was from _him_. It was a blank message with a single attachment that she opened eagerly. Music filled her room.

 _Raat ko aaunga main,_

 _Tujhe le jaunga main._

 _Film dikhaunga main,_

 _Sair karaunga main._

 _Mujhse shaadi karogi?_

She blinked away happy tears as she dialled his number, laughing softly.

 _Bua-ji is right. He really is mad._

"Yes or no?" he greeted.

"I've already said yes," Khushi grinned.

"But I didn't ask. So I'm asking now."

"Yes. A thousand times yes."

"Khushi ... I'm ... I'm sorry it took so long ... I just ..." he lapsed into silence.

"It's a big decision. I understand. It's the rest of our lives."

There was a short pause, in which she reached up to play with the stars that hung from her bed frame.

 _Thank you Amma. Thank you Babu-ji._

"Di wants to know if we should wait until you finish college for the wedding?" Arnav-ji asked.

"May I? I'd love that."

"You still have six months left," he objected.

"Arnav-ji ..."

"Khushi ... six months. Twenty-six weeks. More than a hundred and eighty days, four thousand, three hundred-"

"Sshhhh," she comforted him, "It'll be over before you know it."

"I won't stand for it, you know?" he threatened, "You and Di working against me like this."

"This is the first and last time."

"Why don't I believe you?" he laughed.

* * *

The song lyrics are from 'Mujhse Shaadi Karogi' ( _Dulhan Hum Le Jayenge_ , 2000). An English translation:

 _Raat Ko Aaunga Main, [I'll come in the evening]_

 _Tujhe Le Jaunga Main. [And take you away.]_

 _Film Dikhaunga Main, [I'll take you to see a film,]_

 _Sair Karaunga Main. [I'll show you around.]_

 _Mujhse Shaadi Karogi? [Will you marry me?]_


	20. Chapter 18: Arnav

**Chapter 18: Arnav**

The next day, breakfast was a blur of activity. Arnav wove his way around the women in his family to sit at his customary place on Nani's left.

"Chhote! I'm so glad you're here," Di turned to him, her arms full of _saris_ , "Quick, pick a _sari_ for Khushi-ji."

Arnav turned to the pile she set beside him, nodding absently at HP as he placed a plate of buttered toast and a glass of orange juice in front of him. First, he rejected all the pastel colours, cutting down the options to just four. He rubbed fabric between his fingers.

"This is too rough," he rejected the cotton blend.

"The Managing Director of _AR Designs_ is making an appearance," Di commented to no one in particular.

"The netting won't fall properly when she's wearing it," he rejected a turquoise blue _sari_.

The choice was down to a pink and purple _sari_ in chiffon or a red one in georgette.

"The red one," Arnav decided, letting the soft fabric slide through his fingers as he admired the thin gold border with threads of green.

"Excellent," grinned Di, "now we can pick matching jewellery."

He watched Di and Mami open and close jewellery boxes at the other end of the dining table as he polished off his toast. They showed him when they were done.

"Not diamonds," he shook his head, "Give her the set with the garnets, she likes bright colours."

"Chhote knows his future wife very well," Nani smiled at him.

"Mmmm," Arnav agreed absently, his mind racing to the next occasion, "Her engagement ring can't be diamond either. Not white diamond. I was thinking a yellow diamond. Her favourite colour is yellow."

He looked up from his plate to find his entire family gaping at him. "What?"

"It's just ... we've never ..." Di stammered.

"You wanted me to get married, right?" he frowned, "Isn't this what husbands do?"

His only answer was a stunned silence.

"Unbelievable," scowling, he retreated to his bedroom.

He was sliding into his jacket when his phone chimed with a text message.

 _'When will you be here? '_

Smiling, he typed out a reply.

 _'1 hour. You miss me? '_

Khushi's reply was almost instant.

 _'No.'_

He was still smiling when he returned to the dining room, where Nani, Mami, and Di were busy wrapping the gifts. In addition to the _sari_ and jewellery for Khushi, there were _saris_ , bangles, and necklace sets for the women in her family, and a _kurta_ set for her father. Mami, worried for Khushi and Payal's wedding photos, had also arranged for two makeup kits.

"Aakash," Arnav disturbed his brother as he ate, "can you drive everyone to Laxmi Nagar? I have to see to an errand but I'll meet you there."

"What errand, Chhote?" Nani had overheard.

"Just ... something ... I'll see you there."

. _ . _ . _ . _ . _ .

He was happy.

While contentment and satisfaction were familiar companions, found in successful acquisitions and increased profits, happiness had always been for others. It was Di's smile and Aakash's confidence and sometimes even Nani's praise. The mere _promise_ of Khushi, however, had changed everything.

He'd wanted her from that first day and the knowledge that she wanted him - _that she wanted him despite everything that said she shouldn't_ \- had weakened his resolve long before Di had asked her questions. Khushi had chipped away at him, slipping past his defences one by one until she was safely ensconced somewhere in the region of his chest.

 _How laughable the plan to force her rejection seems now._

Arnav parked his car behind the white Hyundai that Aakash favoured. He snatched a small parcel from the passenger seat and slid out of the car, his heartbeat quickening as he strode up the steps. He slid the parcel into his pocket as he rang the doorbell.

" _Namaste_ ," Payal appeared at the door, "Come in."

" _Namaste_ ," Arnav brought his hands together in greeting, feeling awkward, before stepping inside.

His eyes found Khushi immediately, seated symbolically between his Nani and his sister, officially a part of his household. She wore a purple and gold _salwaar_ suit, her glossy hair unbound, her lips painted a becoming shade of fuchsia. Arnav distractedly offered obeisance to her parents and Bua-ji before taking a seat next to Aakash, his eyes unwilling to leave Khushi. She blushed.

 _Mine. My happiness._

Hours of sitting in his car, of listing everything he wanted and everything he stood to lose, everything he was and everything he wasn't, had led to one startling and bitter truth. Oddly, it had taken a mechanic with grease-stained hands to show him - the man's innocent question had inspired an irrational jealousy.

One day - perhaps not tomorrow or next week or even next month, but _one day_ \- there would be a man at Khushi's door. A man her family would not refuse, a man who would put his marks on her before taking her home, a man who would wake up to her every morning thereafter.

And just like that, the question was no longer whether he could live with her, but rather whether he could live _without_ her.

"Arnav- _babua_ , you came at the best time. We're just about to start the gift giving," Madhumati-ji was all smiles.

"Sorry I was late, Bua-ji, Uncle, Aunty. I had an errand to complete," Arnav took the cup of tea Payal offered him, nodding at her in thanks.

Shashi-Uncle waved off his apology as Nani tittered, still unimpressed with his unexplained absence.

"Chhote," Di tried to distract them all, "why don't you sit next to Khushi-ji while we present her with the gifts?"

He squeezed his sister's fingers in gratitude before switching seats, sitting close enough to Khushi to feel her warmth all along his side. She wiggled away. Mami first adorned Khushi with a _tilak_ , officially welcoming her, before handing over her present.

"This is a foreign-returned makeup set," she explained, "Use it when you marry Arnav- _bitwa_ so you look nice in the video."

"Yes, Mami-ji," Khushi smiled as she accepted the gift.

She reached to place it on the small table but it was laden with tea and sweets. Khushi looked around, confused, before sitting it back in her lap.

"I can't wait until you join us at home, Khushi- _bitiya_ ," Nani turned to Khushi and handed her a large box, "It's going to be so hard to wait six months."

"Thank you for considering my studies, Nani-ji."

Arnav leaned closer to hear Nani as she whispered in Khushi's ear.

"It's not me you have to worry about, child, it's Chhote. The wait will drive him mad."

Stifling a smile, he watched Khushi blush as she nodded to Nani. Di approached last, holding the wrapped red and gold _sari_ in her hands.

"Welcome, Khushi- _bhabi_ ," she grinned at both of them, "Thank you for saying yes to my crazy Chhote. He chose this for you."

"Thank you, Anjali-ji," Khushi breathed, her blush intensifying.

"Di. Call me Di."

Khushi met his eyes briefly before looking at Di.

"Di," she repeated obediently.

Emotion swelled inside Arnav. He used the cover of her _dupatta_ to lightly run his fingers along her arm, a silent thank you, and smiled as she gasped at the contact. The gifts threatened to fall from her lap as she tried to squirm away.

"Give them to me," Arnav murmured.

He took the boxes and parcels from her and sat them on his lap, ignoring the happy giggles and sighs of both their families as they watched. Arnav allowed his hand to sit innocently next to hers and linked two of his fingers around two of hers when she wasn't paying attention. Khushi stilled, not even drawing breath as she watched Di distribute parcels and accept presents in return.

"What's wrong?" he whispered.

"What are you doing?" she murmured back.

"Nothing."

She made a soft noise, half growl and half sigh, as she tried to rescue her fingers.

"Stop it," he commanded, "Do you want someone to notice?"

They stayed like that, his fingers tracing patterns on her palm, until Bua-ji invited them to stay for lunch.

"Yes, we'll stay," Arnav accepted before anyone could object.

Khushi escaped to prepare with her sister, leaving him to make small talk with the rest of the family. They discussed Payal's upcoming wedding in detail, with Shashi-Uncle kindly inviting them to the functions on their side.

"Then it will be Arnav- _bitwa_ 's turn," gushed Mami, "We'll start their wedding preparations as soon as the other daughter is married."

"Shashi-ji, would you prefer to delay the engagement until Payal is married?" Nani asked, shooting Arnav a wary look.

He smiled at Shashi-Uncle, knowing the family didn't have the finances to focus on two weddings at once, and hid his distress at the thought of further delays.

 _I need Khushi in my home, in my life, in my bed._

"No, no," Shashi-Uncle assured them, "We'll have the engagement as soon as possible."

" _Teej_ is this Friday," smiled Nani, "so we'll look for the earliest date following that."

Arnav breathed a sigh of relief as Khushi's mother and father agreed.

"So ..." he began innocently, "Where should I put these gifts?"


	21. Chapter 19: Khushi

**Chapter 19: Khushi**

"Khussi! Show Arnav- _babua_ where to put the gifts!"

"Yes, Bua-ji."

Khushi wiped her hands on a towel, trying to smile at Anjali-ji – _no Di_ – as Arnav-ji approached.

"Anj—Di, you don't have to help," she protested for the third time, "Jiji and I can handle this."

"Well, I'll help Payal-ji while you show Chhote where to go," his sister smiled cheekily.

Huffing, Khushi tried another tactic.

"I can take them, Arnav-ji, you can go back to the sitting room."

 _He's already held my hand in front of both of our families. Who knows what he'll do when we're alone._

Her pulse raced at the thought of being alone with him now, when fire zipped through her veins and she wanted nothing more than to bury herself in him.

 _Stay away from him, Khushi_.

"No, I'll take them inside," he smiled, "but I'll need you to show me where."

Pouting, she opened the door that led to the rest of the house and ushered him through before turning into the bedroom she shared with Jiji. He stopped in the doorway to look around, and Khushi looked with him, trying to see it as he would.

Family photos hung on the walls, kept company by posters of Salman-ji, with fairy lights strung haphazardly between them. A cupboard in the corner, a chest of drawers, and a study desk lined the edges of the room, with a four-poster canopy bed taking up most of the available space. Plastic stars hung from its frame, alongside a wind chime and other trinkets that she'd used to brighten up the space.

"Is this your room?" he asked softly.

"Y-yes. Mine and Jiji's."

"You share a room? Damn."

"What?"

"Nothing. Where do you want your gifts?"

Khushi pointed at the study desk, still frowning over his words, and didn't notice him return to her after carefully depositing the gifts on its surface. The door clicked shut at his touch.

"So, Khushi Kumari Gupta," he murmured, stepping closer and closer until she could reach out and touch him, "All these gifts mean that you belong to me now."

"No," Khushi was startled into objecting, "I'm not one of your commodities Mr Raizada. You can't buy me."

"And yet," he took a step closer, "that's exactly what the _Shagun_ is, isn't it? A deposit of sorts. We give you gifts and you're off the market ... so to speak."

"Y-yes," she admitted as she stepped backwards.

"So ..." his voice lowered as he took another step forward, "you're mine now."

"No," Khushi whispered, stepping back.

"Don't you want to be mine, Khushi?" his voice was warm and honeyed, and she shivered in response to it.

"I didn't mean ... That's not what ..." her thoughts scattered as he trapped her against the bedroom wall.

"Mmmm," he hummed, taking a final step so his clothes brushed hers, "What was that? I didn't hear you."

Her mouth opened and closed but words failed her. All she could hear was the pounding of her heart as she focussed on the buttons of his waistcoat.

"Look at me, Khushi," he whispered.

She complied reluctantly and wondered at the fire that burned in his eyes. Not anger, but something akin to hunger that left her breathless.

"I have something for you. Close your eyes."

 _No._

 _Yes._

Her eyelids fell as her other senses worked in overdrive, alert for his next move. Khushi wondered what he saw – did he see the heave of her chest as she struggled to draw breath? The flicker of her eyelids as she tried to keep them closed? The tremble of her lips as she waited for him to complete what he always started in her dreams? But he surprised her by chuckling.

"Relax. I'm not going to do anything you don't want, I promise."

 _But I want you to._

He took her hand and raised it to his lips, holding her fingers there before pressing them to her own lips. A kiss ... and yet ... not a kiss. Khushi shuddered as he placed something into her hand.

"Open your eyes," he whispered, his breath disturbing her fringe and causing it to tickle her forehead.

The package was small but heavy. Arnav-ji nodded at her when she glanced up at him, so Khushi opened it carefully to reveal four bangles in red and gold. She gasped at their beauty.

"They'll match the _sari_ Di gave you."

"The one you chose," she remembered, "I'll wear them on Teej."

A blush rose to her face as she realised that this year, for the first time, she'd be keeping a fast for him rather than the idea of the perfect man and a perfect marriage.

Her man.

Her marriage.

"I like you in red," Arnav-ji confessed in a whisper.

One at a time, he slid the bangles onto her wrists, unravelling something inside her with every touch. He admired his handiwork when he was done.

"I'll send over a _sari_ for you to wear. A red one to match these."

"I can wear the one you gave me."

"No," he said gruffly, still standing so close that she inhaled his scent with every breath she took, "Only I get to see you in that one."

Khushi nodded, her voice failing her again as she imagined dressing up for him.

"Khushi ..." he murmured, "All those gifts were for you."

"Wh-what?"

"No one took me off the market. Aren't you going to give me a gift? Make me yours?"

"I don't ... I didn't ..."

"I'm sure you can think of something," his whisper sent a shiver of longing through her.

 _I can think of a hundred things. But to be brave enough ..._

Khushi thought of their collision in his home ... of her hand in his as they walked around the lake ... of the kiss he never gave her in her dreams. Gathering her courage, she slid her arms around his waist and hugged him for the first time. He was warm and solid and _hers_. For a time, she was content to snuggle into him, but she frowned when she realised that his arms hadn't come up to hold her. When she began to move, shy and second guessing her boldness, she felt a gentle touch to her head.

 _Is he ... patting my hair?_

He was.

She smiled against his waistcoat as he ran his fingers through it, and they stayed like that until someone knocked on the door.

"Khushi," came Jiji's voice, "Bua-ji is looking for you."

They broke apart with reluctance, her hands lingering on his jacket for as long as they could.

"Don't make a habit of this," Arnav-ji teased, "I won't tolerate you leaving me when you're Mrs. Khushi Singh Rai-"

Khushi clamped a hand over his mouth. "-Shhhhh! It's a bad omen! I'm not yet yours!"

He arched an eyebrow - _oh Devi Maiyya how she wished she could do that!_ \- before glancing pointedly at her hand. Khushi snatched it away as if burnt.

"You're not mine?"

"I _am_ yours, but after the _Roka_ ... " she trailed off as she registered the victorious glint in his eye.

Time seemed to stand still as Arnav-ji smirked at her. She blushed deeply.

"It's red," his smile became wider.

"What is?"

Her eyes opened wide as he flicked her nose with a gentle finger, "Your nose."

He stepped away and disappeared through the door, leaving her standing against her bedroom wall with a hand to her nose, cheeks still pink. Khushi smiled.

 _Laad Governor._


	22. Chapter 20: Arnav

**Chapter 20: Arnav**

Arnav drove recklessly to the temple, cursing the meeting that had made him late. Khushi would be waiting for him to break her fast. For the hundredth time, he wondered at the necessity of it all.

At this stage, Teej seemed less of a blessing for their married life and more a curse. She'd struggled with the fast all day, sending message after message about how hungry she was and threatening a myriad of punishments if he was late to the temple. Wrecked with concern, he'd paced in his office in the few moments of peace between meetings. She could faint from low blood sugar, he knew too well, or become sick, or any number of other things ... all because of her silly belief that going without food somehow led to marital bliss.

Unbeknownst to anyone else, he'd kept a fast as well, unable to handle the thought of her struggling alone. His head pounded from hunger, adding to the sense of urgency that gripped him.

Arnav grabbed the gift-wrapped box he'd picked up on his way to the temple after parking the car inside the complex. He rushed up the stairs, relieved to find that the _aarti_ hadn't begun, and searched frantically until he spied his sister in a corner.

"Di, how are you feeling?" he asked as he approached.

"Chhote! You made it! Khushi-ji will be so pleased," his sister smiled at him, trying to sidestep his question.

"How are you holding up, Di?" he asked again.

"I'm fine now, Chhote," she sighed, "I was only dizzy for a few seconds."

His anger, always brewing under the surface, flared.

"Why the hell didn't anyone call me? What happened to you? Where's Aakash, why isn't he taking care of you?"

"Calm down, Chhote. Aakash is taking care of me, he just went to get me water. And I'm fine, I was just a little dizzy."

"Yeah, right," he scoffed, "These stupid traditions and rituals Di, they're unhealthy. Aman's not even here."

"Di, Bhai!" Aakash approached them, a steel glass in his hand, "I have water."

"I can't break my fast, Aakash."

"Di, this is ridiculous," Arnav fumed as he took the glass from his brother, "Just drink it. Aman won't care."

"I care," Di frowned, "Anyway, find Khushi-ji. Aakash will take care of me."

"No. I'm staying right here. Aakash, can you please find Khushi and bring her to me?"

Aakash returned with Khushi and Payal a few minutes later, with Mama and Mami in tow. Arnav took a brief look at her, smiling as he noted that she was wearing the pink and red sari he'd sent over that morning, and then turned to his sister.

"Drink the water, Di," he urged, "Aman won't care."

"But I care, Chhote," she repeated, "It's just a few more minutes."

He started to fling the glass away, irritated beyond measure, but froze when he remembered Khushi. She gave him a tentative smile when he looked over.

 _Careful, Arnav._

He handed the glass to Aakash before sinking down beside his sister. Khushi approached them.

"Di," her eyes were wide in concern, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Khushi-ji, Chhote is over protective sometimes."

Arnav scowled as Khushi glanced in his direction before smiling cheekily, "Arnav-ji just loves you a lot."

There was a brief tightening in his chest as he watched his almost-fiancée comfort his sister, sidelined for the moment as they bonded. Already, it was difficult to imagine a future where Khushi wasn't standing beside him.

The temple bells rang to announce the start of the pooja, interrupting Khushi as she relayed a joke. Di smiled as both he and Khushi offered their hands to help her up. The priest greeted them with a smile as they approached - Di organised and paid for this pooja every year - and handed her a pooja _thaal_. Her phone buzzed as she began, and Arnav reached into her purse to answer it.

"Aman," he greeted quietly, "Di is just doing the _aarti_."

"Put me on speakerphone so I can hear, Arnav."

Arnav complied, turning the phone towards his sister so she could see that her husband had called. She smiled, tears running unchecked, as she completed her worship and handed the _thaal_ to Mami. Taking the phone, Di stepped to the side and engaged in a hushed conversation with Aman, smiling widely through tears. Arnav took a few steps to stand by Khushi, where he stealthily took her hand.

"Thank you," he leaned in to whisper, "for taking care of my sister."

"She's my sister too."

He could only nod and squeeze her hand, overwhelmed by the ease with which she'd accepted him and his entire family. Khushi stepped forward when it was her turn, taking the _thaal_ from Mami's hands and turning to the statue that towered over them all, and Arnav edged forward until he was standing beside her. She smiled up at him before turning to her _aarti_.

When she turned to hand the _thaal_ to her sister, Arnav had his first glimpse of the man Payal was engaged to. Abhishek was a tall man with a rounded face, dressed in a business suit paired with a red tie. His smile was wide and open as he stood beside Payal, his eyes bright as he took in his surroundings. He seemed, in a word, _nice_. Payal smiled shyly at him as she completed her _aarti_ and handed the _thaal_ to the next woman.

At the completion of the _aarti_ , the single women lined up in front of the dais while the others turned to their partners and husbands. Khushi collected her _thaal_ and made her way to him, suddenly shy. Arnav looked around, disliking the lack of privacy, and quickly pulled her into a shadowed corner he'd spied earlier.

"What are you doing?"

"I don't want everyone watching us."

"No one was watching us," she argued.

"This way I can be sure," he raised his hands to trap her against the wall, "that no one can see me when I do this."

He stepped as close as the _thaal_ in her hands would let him.

"This _sari_ looks beautiful on you, Khushi."

She blushed at his praise, the pink of her cheeks rivalling the border of her sari. He let his hands settle at her hips, careful not to touch any of the skin left exposed by her _sari_ , and decided to give her a break.

"Here," Arnav held the copper vessel to her lips, "Drink."

Khushi, who'd complained of being thirsty on the phone at least a hundred times, let out a soft moan as she sipped. His thoughts froze, his body reacting immediately. Desire ran like fire through his veins as he imagined her making that sound in an entirely different situation.

 _Get a grip, Arnav. Focus._

He reached for the sole jalebi on her _thaal_ , his hand shaking slightly despite his best efforts to control it as he fed it to her. She took the golden spiral from his limp fingers, sighing in contentment as she scoffed it down.

"Thank you, Arnav-ji," she said around the food in her mouth.

"Can you feed me?" he asked as innocently as he could.

"Why?" Khushi eyed him suspiciously, unconsciously jerking her _thaal_ away as if she didn't want to share her food.

"I fasted too ... I hated the thought of you suffering alone."

Her expression softened for a moment before hardening in anger.

"Why!? You have diabetes. You could've gotten sick, you could've fainted!"

"Khushi ... do you think you could yell at me after you give me water and something to eat?"

"Oh."

She quickly lifted the copper vessel and allowed him to sip. The sweet, cool water was a relief to his parched throat. His headache lessened almost instantly.

Khushi started to feed him a _barfi_ before freezing. "It's not sugar free."

"I haven't eaten all day. It'll be fine," he assured her.

She fed him the sweet after another short hesitation, narrowing her eyes as she watched him carefully for any adverse reaction.

"Relax, Khushi. I'll be fine."

She ignored him, "Why did you fast?"

"I told you. I don't like the idea of you suffering for me. It's only fair that I fast with you. I fast with Di for _Raksha Bandhan_ every year."

"You're so sweet," she smiled suddenly, "Salman-ji fasts for his heroines as well."

"What the-? Salman-ji? Are you thinking of another man while I'm standing right here?" he teased, "Breaking your fast for Teej?"

"Yes ... I mean no," Khushi pursed her lips, "Anyway, Salman-ji is great. There's nothing he can't do."

 _You shouldn't have said that baby, not when I'm trying so hard to keep myself safe._

"Really," he growled, his voice lowering with the desire that suffused it, "there's nothing he can't do?"

"N-n-no."

Arnav took the _thaal_ from her hands and placed it on the floor before returning to her, pulling her flush against his body. She trembled, her fingers automatically tightening on his jacket as she held his upper arms. He leaned in, taking a few moments to breathe her in, before placing a gentle kiss against her cheek.

"There are a lot of things your stupid Salman-ji can't do."

Khushi's arms slid around him as she hid herself in his chest. Unsure of where to place his hands – his desire made everywhere feel dangerous – he tangled his fingers into her hair and cradled her head.

"Khushi ..." he whispered a few minutes later, "don't you want to see your gift?"

She stepped back, her eyes lighting up at the mention of a present, and squealed as her head hit the wall.

"Careful, Khushi," he bent to kiss her hair lightly.

"You already got me a _sari_ ," she pointed out, still grimacing and rubbing the back of her head.

"Mmmm, but that was because you wanted to wear the bangles," he explained, "This is for Teej."

Reaching into his jacket, he presented Khushi with the gift-wrapped box. For the second time in a week, Arnav stood inches from her as she unwrapped his gift. His pulse stuttered as she gasped.

"Arnav-ji ..."

He reached out and ran his fingers over her cheek. "You don't have to keep it ... I just thought ..."

"It's beautiful."

"It was my mother's."

"Can you ...?"

He lifted the delicate chain out of its box and clasped it around her swan-like neck, allowing his fingers to trace over her skin when he was done. Arnav admired the pendant that hung from the chain, a silver disc encircled by tiny pearls and an emerald at each compass point.

"R," she breathed.

"Rathna. But it can stand for Raizada as well."

Khushi reached for him again, hugging him tightly as he savoured the feel of her.

"Khushi ... I ... I think ..."

 _I think I'm falling in love with you, baby, and it terrifies me._

"What?"

"I think we should go back before they realise we're missing."


	23. Chapter 21: Khushi

**Chapter 21: Khushi**

"Khussi! Look at this one, it's exactly like your Fufa's engagement ring."

Khushi studied the ring in Bua-ji's hand, a thick gold band that was flattened on one side, where it was stamped with a design of stars. It was gaudy, and while it wouldn't have looked out of place on a man's finger fifty years ago, it was utterly inappropriate for the simple yet refined man she was marrying.

"Thank you Bua-ji," Khushi smiled, "but Arnav-ji would prefer something plain. Very plain."

 _Something that could disappear. He doesn't wear any jewellery, not even a watch._

This was her current dilemma: how to pick a piece of jewellery for a man who seemed to disdain the very idea?

Bua-ji frowned, as if not quite understanding that tastes and fashion could've changed since she sat where Khushi was today, picking out an engagement ring for her future husband.

"He'll love it! Your Fufa loved _his_ ring, even though he couldn't wear it every day because of his work."

Khushi nodded absently, her gaze caught by a ring displayed inside the cabinet in front of her. It was a plain gold band; slightly rounded instead of flat edged, with a single clear stone its only embellishment. The sales clerk noticed her interest and swiftly unlocked the cabinet.

"Excellent choice, madam," he preened, "your fiancé will love this."

 _How confidently he speaks about a stranger. What would he say if he knew that I'm marrying Arnav Singh Raizada? Textile tycoon and all-round badmaash?_

She blushed as she recalled the kiss he'd gifted her inside the temple.

"Not this one," whispered Bua-ji, leaning over to peek at her selection, "Khushi you're marrying a rich man, not some lawyer from Lucknow. He's used to finer things."

Khushi reached under her _dupatta_ to fiddle with the necklace he'd given her. Seeing that she wasn't listening, Bua-ji hurried to the other side of the store to champion her cause to Amma and Babu-ji. Khushi grabbed her phone and quickly typed out a message.

 _You don't wear jewellery._

His reply was almost instant.

 _No, I don't._

 _Then you have to help me. Gold or platinum for your engagement ring?_

 _I prefer gold. Platinum would match yours, do we need to coordinate?_

 _No. Also, you don't have to wear it after the engagement. I understand._

 _I'll wear it, absolutely. Otherwise you'll claw out the eyes of any girl who dares to even look at me._

 _Badmaash. [Scoundrel.]_

 _Pagal. [Madwoman.]_

 _Rakshas. [Devil.]_

 _Oh really, Miss Gupta?_

 _Laad Governor._

 _What? What does that even mean?_

 _Nothing. Talk to you later._

Smiling, she tucked the phone back into her sling bag.

"This one," Khushi confirmed to the clerk.

They left two hours later, having spent their time picking out almost two dozen jewellery sets; some gifts for the Raizada women, some to be used for Khushi's wedding functions, and the rest to be packed into her bags and worn in her new home. They were only taking a few of them home – the others would follow in the next six months as Babu-ji paid for them. Khushi skipped to her father's side.

"Thank you Babu-ji," she hugged him as they walked to their car.

He kissed her forehead tenderly, "Stop worrying about the money. We're going to marry you off in style. Wherever you are, you'll always be my daughter."

Later that afternoon, in the privacy of her bedroom, Khushi arranged and rearranged the jewellery sets. She wrapped the gifts for his sister, Mami, and Nani using white paper with pink roses printed on it. Then she sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the gold band in its blue box.

 _Now I understand why Jiji falls into a daydream every time she catches sight of her engagement ring._

Such a small thing, but it held her entire future. A home, a husband, a life.

An inexplicable longing gripped her, leaving her hollow. It felt silly, bordering on unhealthy, to miss him when they texted constantly, when they spoke every night, when they'd stood next to each other only three days ago on _Teej_.

Shaking her head, Khushi carefully packed everything into her cupboard. The first notes of the ringtone she'd assigned to him distracted her as she worked. Khushi danced across the room, engaged in her own private party, and only answered when her favourite part – " _Munda Kamal Hai_ " – was over.

"Arnav-ji!" she greeted.

"Why does it always take you so long to answer?"

"I ... uhh ..."

"Forget it," he sighed, "Did anyone tell you?"

"Yes," Khushi smiled, accustomed to his dislike of small talk.

He groaned. "Khushi, this is ridiculous."

"Why? The _roka_ is two weeks from today."

"Exactly. Two weeks."

"It will be over before you know it," she tried to placate him, "and they'll fix a date for our wedding on the same day."

"Yeah," he scoffed, "and what's two weeks compared to six months?"

"What's wrong? Why are you in such a bad mood?"

Arnav-ji sighed into the phone. "Is it that obvious?"

"Mmhmmm."

"There was something at work," he admitted quietly.

"Oh."

"Don't worry. We'll get through it. We've endured worse."

There was a brief silence in which Khushi heard the chaos of Delhi's peak traffic through the phone. Arnav-ji battered his horn a few times before speaking again.

"Di said that we can't see each other before the _roka_. Something about the alliance not being formal yet."

"We shouldn't," she admitted, "Bua-ji mentioned ..."

"Who's going to stop me if I want to come to _Laxmi Nagar_ right now?" he challenged.

"It's not about who will stop you, Arnav-ji. It's about respecting the traditions."

"I don't care."

"Respecting our elders?"

"I don't care," he repeated.

"Respecting _my_ beliefs, my family?"

"Two weeks?" he asked after a short silence.

"Two weeks."

* * *

 _Author's Note:_

 _Welcome back to RISHTAA! I hope you enjoy Arc 2 :) The eight week, though beneficial, didn't go as I'd planned. A combination of health and other personal issues means that I wasn't able to complete Arc 2 in the time I'd set myself. I hope to complete the last few chapters of Arc 2 as I'm sharing chapters, but I cannot promise anything so there may be another break in the future. There was always going to be a long break between Arc 2 and Arc 3, so nothing has changed except that the break would come earlier. My apologies to anyone inconvenienced by this, but I hope you understand that I need to take care of myself before I can dedicate time and energy to anything else._

 _A brief note on 'Laad Governor': British governor generals and viceroys were called Laat Sa'eb in the time of occupation. Now it's used as a way to describe a haughty or lordly person, and Khushi upgraded to "Laad Governor" when describing Arnav in the serial. The spelling - "Laad" instead of "Laat" - was canonised when Arnav wrote it down during his kidnapping. The show also had Irani deliberately mispronounce the word to create comedy - it sounds a lot like Khushi is mispronouncing "Lord", which confuses Arnav, who intentionally says "Lord Governor" in Ek Jashn when he's musing about her name for him._


	24. Chapter 22: Arnav

**Chapter 22: Arnav**

Two weeks had crawled by, slower than snail's pace. Hours had felt like days, and days like weeks, as he'd waited for this day to arrive. He didn't know why it made such a difference – it was only an exchange of rings and presents, a way for their families to cement the newly forged link between them – but it did.

He'd spent the last few days researching the wedding customs in his spare time.

 _Before anything else, preparation is the key to success._

Although he remembered Di's wedding with fondness, he hadn't paid much attention to the rituals, never dreaming that _he'd_ marry. But he refused to be caught off-guard at his own wedding.

Arnav smoothed his hands over his white shirt before donning the jacket from his gray suit. He was studying his reflection when a knock sounded at his door.

"Come in."

" _Chotte_ , you look so handsome," his sister greeted as she approached. She fussed with his collar, ignoring his attempts to duck away. "Are you nervous?"

"No?" he raised an eyebrow, "Why?"

"I was," Di sat on the sofa, "I mean, I'd known Aman-ji for over a year by then. I was sure of myself. But my hand still shook when he took it. It's such a big decision."

Arnav considered his sister's words. "I think ... I think the big decision was saying yes, for me. After that ... this is all just for for you and Nani and Khushi."

"I'm so glad you said yes. Khushi-ji is ..."

"Yeah. I know."

He rummaged inside his wardrobe for cologne in their silence, each waiting for the other to bring up Mamma.

"She ... she'd love Khushi-ji."

"Really?" he asked softly, his back still to Di.

"Yes," she was confident, "All she wanted was for you to be happy. And with her, you are."

Nodding, Arnav offered his arm. He escorted his sister downstairs to where the rest of their family waited.

" _Chhote_ ," Nani hugged him tightly, "I'm so proud of you."

" _Bitwa_ ," Mami whispered as he hugged her, "Now we have to look for a Miss World to marry my Aakash."

"Yes, Mami-ji," Arnav whispered back.

"It makes me sad to see a fine young man waste his life on marriage," Mama joked, "Now I'm stuck here, _bitwa_ , but you should run while you have the chance!"

Arnav chuckled as he embraced his uncle, watching as Mami spluttered in the background as she hunted for a come-back.

"I'm proud of you," his uncle murmured into his ear, "My sister ..."

"Thank you, Mama-ji."

Aakash pushed his glasses up as he approached, "Congratulations, Bhai."

"Thanks."

They shook hands like strangers, both oddly reserved as their audience tittered and shook their heads. The doorbell chimed before Arnav could embrace his brother properly, and Hari Prakash rushed to answer it. Khushi smiled as she walked over, leading her family into Shantivan and almost bouncing in excitement. Arnav studied her as their families exchanged pleasantries. She was dressed in a _lehenga_ with a red top and bright blue skirt, a green dupatta draped around her figure and hiding her waist from his seeking eyes.

" _Babua_ ," Khushi's Bua-ji turned to him, "You look very handsome, Nand Kishore."

Arnav stepped forward and touched her feet in obeisance, muttering a greeting, and then repeated the gesture with Uncle and Aunty. Delighted, they blessed him as Khushi greeted Nani and Mami. They stood together when it was done, a bridge with her family on one side and his on the other.

" _Chotte_ , Khushi-ji," Di grinned, "Everything is ready."

She indicated to the dais behind them. Arnav offered his hand to Khushi and smiled as she slid her palm against his. He led her up, followed by their families, as the other guests took their seats. There was a sudden hush.

"Wait," he said, "Khushi needs to stand on my right."

Both families gaped at him. He fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Isn't that right, Nani? Me on the right and Khushi on the left?"

"Yes, _Chhote_ , that's right."

"But _Chhote_ ," Di was still astounded, "How do you ..."

He glanced at Khushi before answering nonchalantly, "I read up on the ceremonies."

Aakash grinned, Nani smiled, and Mami's eyes were as round as saucers. He ignored them all, focussing on Di as she applied a _tikka_ to Khushi's forehead before nodding to Bua-ji. He leaned forward, allowing her to apply a _tikka_ to him. Aakash grasped his shoulders as everyone chatted quietly, and they both watched Bua-ji rummage in her pouch for cash. Arnav frowned.

"Bua-ji, you're forgetting something."

Bua-ji gaped at him.

"A _raksha dhaga_ , on my right hand," he explained.

"You'll wear the _raksha dhaga_?" Khushi asked softly.

He turned to her, noting the way her eyes were round with disbelief. "Everything according to the rituals, right? Why should we leave one thing out?"

Arnav held out his right hand as Bua-ji, recovering from her shock, produced a _dhaga_.

"Live long, _babua_ ," she blessed him after it was tied.

Di leaned behind Khushi to mutter to Aakash. "Aakash, pinch me. I can't believe this is real."

Khushi giggled. Arnav rolled his eyes as Di held out her arm and Aakash obliged.

Then Garima-Aunty and Mami produced the rings, both on gold platters of red rose petals. Khushi reddened as she plucked a gold band from a blue box. She looked up briefly when he offered his right hand and slid the ring on as everyone clapped. Taking her ring from its red box, Arnav held her left hand firmly in his as he slid it onto her finger. She tore her gaze from the ring to smile up at him, tears shining in her eyes. He leaned towards her.

"Now you're mine," he murmured.

"Yes," she breathed, "and you're mine."

His pulse skittered. He squeezed her fingers in gentle reassurance as their families approached to congratulate them. They bowed in sync, accepting blessings from their elders, before they were showered in hugs and kisses.

"Congratulations Khushi-ji, Bhai," Aakash said softly, and this time, Arnav hugged him in earnest.

" _Chhote_ ," Di handed him a phone.

"Arnav!" Aman greeted, "I can't believe you did it!"

"Neither can I."

"Let me speak to her."

Khushi was busy with Payal and Abhishek. Payal was holding her left hand, inspecting the engagement ring with all the expertise of a sister. A yellow diamond, cushion cut, surrounded by smaller white diamonds in a platinum band.

Arnav traced his hand under Khushi's _dupatta_ to get her attention. She jumped slightly as she turned.

"Aman," he handed her the phone.

"N-namaste, Jija-ji," she stammered, "This ... this is Khushi."

She relaxed as Aman spoke, and Arnav wished he could hear what Aman was saying. She giggled, her eyes flicking to his.

"I know," she grinned into the phone, "he is!"

"That's enough," Arnav pretended to growl as he took the phone back, "Aman can embarrass me some other time."

Aakash took the phone, smirking, as Arnav turned to Khushi's sister.

"Good luck," Payal smiled, "my Khushi is going to drive you mad!"

"Wouldn't have it any other way," he told her.

"Congratulations," Abhishek held out a hand.

"Thank you," Arnav shook it, "Sorry we didn't speak more on _Teej_."

The other man shook his head, and they exchanged a few polite words about where they'd studied and what they did as the two sisters looked on. Out of the corner of his eye, Arnav saw Payal nudge Khushi and whisper something that made her blush.

Music suddenly pulsed around the room, signalling an end to the formalities. He and Khushi accepted congratulations from the guests as dinner was served. Aakash arrived some time later, sent by Nani to collect them, and they ate with Di, Payal and Abhishek.

" _Chhote_ , Khushi-bitya," Nani smiled as she joined them, "the priest has finished matching your horoscopes."

Khushi froze, a morsel of food half way to her mouth, "What did he say, Nani-ji?"

"That you two are going to fight like cats and dogs all your life!" Di teased, making Khushi blush.

"Anjali," Nani chided with a smile, "That's not what he said at all. Thirty-two of your _guna_ match, out of thirty-six. You'll both be very happy."

"Thirty-two!" Khushi pouted, "I was hoping for at least thirty-three."

"Khushi this isn't an exam," Payal scolded in undertone as everyone else smiled.

"This is all your fault," Khushi leaned in to whisper, "If you weren't so grumpy, then more of our _guna_ will have matched."

"Yeah. Sure," Arnav rolled his eyes, "I don't believe in this nonsense anyway."

Khushi frowned at him in warning before turning back to Nani, "Nani-ji, have they decided on a date for the wedding?"

"11th November."

"That's more than six months," Arnav objected.

"Chhote, you cannot get married during _Chaturmas_. This is the first possible date in November."

"Ridiculous," he fumed as Nani rose to greet some guests.

Khushi discreetly took his hand under the table. He flashed an irritated look at her, but she only smiled. Di reached over to hug him.

"Patience, _Chhote_. Don't ruin your engagement by arguing."

Arnav scowled at his sister before returning to his meal, his fingers still entwined with Khushi's under the table.

"Di, I'm taking Khushi upstairs," Arnav announced when they were finished.

"What!?" Khushi choked on a _jalebi_ , and Payal rubbed her back as she recovered.

"Be quick," Di smiled, "We'll cover for you."

He led Khushi by the hand, ignoring her mumbled protests, and pulled her into his bedroom. She bit her lip as she looked around.

"What ... Why are we here?"

"I wanted you to see it. This will be your room too."

"But ... downstairs ..." she looked nervously at the door.

"Relax."

Khushi walked around slowly, staring at the green sofa and the shelf under the mirror. She avoided looking directly at the king sized bed that dominated the room, choosing instead to walk over to the bathroom and peek inside.

Watching her, Arnav realised that it had been a mistake to bring her up here. He still dreamt of her every night. He'd kissed her senseless in this room. Made her his, countless times, on that bed. He'd made love to her on and against every surface. These walls rang with her sounds.

Every cell in his body urged him towards her, so he deliberately stepped away to stand in front of a small book shelf. Khushi crossed the room as he pulled out a heavy book.

"This is a book on decorating," he said softly, "I thought you could look through it and tell me what changes you want made. I want to have this room ready by the wedding."

"I ... no," Khushi looked between him and the book, "No, you don't have to change it for me."

"Just look through it. Tell me if there's anything you like."

Their fingers brushed as Khushi took it. His resolve unravelled as her eyes flew up to his. Arnav cupped her jaw, tilting her face to his, and brushed his lips against her cheek. He did the same to her other cheek, relishing the way she trembled and sighed, before pressing his mouth to hers in a kiss that was almost chaste. Lightning seemed to zip between them, bright and hot and potent.

"Mine," he whispered against her lips.

She pushed him away, her hands lingering on his clothes as they separated, and grinned as she hurried away. But she froze at the door, turning to study him contemplatively before picking her way back to his side.

"What ..."

Questions stilled on his tongue as she leaned up, a hand pressed to his chest for balance, and swiftly kissed his cheek. Then she fled to the door with a giggle, the book cradled against her chest, and he was left staring, fingers pressed lightly to the skin that still tingled with the feel of her lips.


	25. Chapter 23: Khushi

**Chapter 23: Khushi**

Khushi stood in the dubious shelter of the building, watching in dismay as rain cascaded down.

 _Hai Devi Maiyya! Arnav-ji even texted me about an umbrella this morning, I still forgot._

Frustrated, she smacked herself on the head as she fretted about catching a rickshaw in the chaos. She aimed for the entrance, pulling out a notebook and holding it over her head as she dashed between buildings.

Almost five weeks had passed since her engagement and the routine of her college classes and assignments kept her busy. She was filled with determination to complete her degree as best as she could. After all, this was her last semester. Arnav-ji was busy too. His company had hosted an event in Mumbai, and he'd been gone for a whole week. She hadn't seen him since he'd returned.

Khushi's heart twisted. She missed him. She missed the routine they'd set up – lunch on Tuesdays and dinner on Fridays, with visits to either his home or hers on weekends. She'd even spent _Raksha Bandhan_ with him, watching as Di tied a _rakhi_ to his wrist.

"Chhote doesn't need to get me any presents this year," Di had gushed as she'd fed him a sugarfree _laddoo_ , "It's enough that he's getting married! But next year …"

Shaking his head, Arnav-ji had smiled as he'd pushed a gift-wrapped jewellery set into Di's hands.

Lost in her memories, Khushi slipped on the slick concrete, and a hand wrapped around her upper arm to steady her. An exclamation died on her lips as her gaze collided with warm brown eyes.

"Careful, Khushi."

His hair was plastered onto his forehead, his white shirt was damp with rain, but Arnav-ji grinned as she righted her _dupatta_. She gaped when she realised that his car was parked behind him.

"What are you doing here?"

"I knew you'd forget an umbrella. Get in, I'll drop you home."

He grunted softly as she sprang into him, oblivious to the many eyes on them. She twisted her fingers into his waistcoat, trying to hold him closer. The yellow stone on her engagement ring twinkled.

 _Mine_.

"Come," he murmured into her hair.

Arnav-ji helped her into his car before climbing into the driver's seat. Khushi chatted happily as he drove, telling him about her classes and the assignment that was due the next day.

 _I missed you, I missed you, I missed you_ , her heart sang.

And the other thing, the one she'd never said out loud, danced on the tip of her tongue.

 _I love you._

Khushi raised her eyebrows at Arnav-ji as he turned into an underground car park.

"Hungry?" he asked.

She nodded eagerly as her tummy gave a little growl. Chuckling, he unsnapped her seatbelt before opening his door. Khushi closed her eyes when her body slid against his as he helped her down.

"Are you okay?" there was a slight tremble in his voice, and she realised that he felt it too.

The heat, _the electricity_ , that she'd noticed on that first day had only deepened, until sometimes all she could think about was burying herself in his arms. To be closer to him than she'd been to anyone else. To touch him, and ask him to touch her in turn.

Arnav-ji's eyes darkened as they stood there, so close their breath mingled and she felt the heat of him through their damp clothes. His hands skimmed up her body, gliding from her waist to her shoulders before tangling in her hair. Her heart hammered as her breath hitched in her lungs. Her eyes fluttered closed and her head tilted up a fraction, a silent invitation. He seemed to read her mind. His forehead rested against hers briefly before he moved so their lips brushed. Something flared inside her, instant and overpowering, and her fingers tightened on his arms as he pressed his mouth to hers again. There was more pressure this time, more warmth, more everything, but their kiss remained chaste. He'd never gone beyond this, and she didn't know how to ask for more.

"Your nose is red."

Khushi's eyes snapped open. Amusement shone in his eyes as he smiled, his fingers still idly toying with her hair. Then clarity slammed back into her as she realised that she was still pressed against his car.

She pushed Arnav-ji away gently, "Anyone can see us!"

"You didn't seem to care a minute ago," he smirked as he took her hand.

Blushing, Khushi allowed him to lead her across the undercover car park and into a cosy café.

"Table for two," he greeted a waiter, "somewhere private."

They shook hands, and Khushi thought she saw money exchange hands. She turned to Arnav-ji, gasping, but he only winked as they were shown to a table at the back of the restaurant, far from where the other customers sat. The waiter placed slim black menus in front of them as he asked for their drink orders.

"Black coffee," said Arnav-ji.

"Tea, please, with milk and sugar."

Khushi reached across and snatched at Arnav-ji's sleeve as soon as the waiter was out of earshot. "You paid him!"

"Money speaks, Khushi. I wanted some privacy."

"But," she spluttered, "You can't just …"

"I can. And I just did."

The finality in his tone warned her to keep quiet, but she _couldn't_.

"So you just throw money at everything to get your way?"

"Yeah."

"Arnav-ji!"

He calmly turned the pages of his menu. "Money is power, Khushi, and I have a lot of money."

"You sound cold, and cynical. Money isn't everything. It can't buy you everything."

"The people who say that don't have enough to buy their dreams."

Khushi huffed in annoyance, realising that he wouldn't be swayed. Fear blossomed inside her as she considered.

 _How can we see the world so differently? What will our marriage be like if we can't agree on something as small as this?_

They sat in silence until their drinks were delivered. Khushi was jolted out of her melancholy when a teapot and two small jars were placed in front of her.

"I ordered tea," she protested, "with milk and sugar."

"Relax," Arnav-ji gestured for the waiter to leave them, "That's the tea, and the milk and sugar. Make it to your tastes."

 _Oh._

Khushi muttered to herself as she poured a cup, "Why pay so much money if we have to make the tea ourselves? I can get better fare at a tea-stall in _Laxmi Nagar._ "

" _Paagal_."

She looked up to find him smiling, amusement shining in his eyes. He handed her the menu, making sure to brush his fingers against hers, and their easy conversation and flirtation returned gradually as they ate. Khushi pushed aside her misgivings and tried to enjoy her time with him.

Talk eventually turned to Jiji's wedding.

"I'm so glad, I'll get to see you almost every day for a week!"

"You'll see my family almost every day," he corrected with an apologetic grimace, "I think I'm only coming for some of the functions."

"Arnav-ji!"

"We're busy at the moment. I'll try my best."

He drove her home when they were done and leaned across the console of his car to kiss her goodbye. She curled her fingers into his hair, keeping him close.

"Mumbai was lonely," Arnav-ji whispered as he kissed her cheek, and she heard what he didn't say.

 _I missed you._

"So was Delhi."

 _I missed you too._


	26. Chapter 24: Arnav

**Chapter 24: Arnav**

Arnav ran up the stairs and across the veranda, his heart pounding almost painfully. He pressed the doorbell relentlessly, and when the wooden doors didn't open instantly, battered them with violence. The marigolds and tinsel that decorated the frame gave way to his aggression.

"Khushi!"

The door opened without warning, framing her Bua-ji in the doorway. Her features were drawn, her eyes red-rimmed.

 _Fuck._

" _Babua_ ," she sobbed.

"Khushi called."

She nodded, patting his arm as she pulled him inside. The house was decorated with flowers and ribbon. Brightly coloured cloth decorated the ceiling, and fairy lights were strung across every available surface.

"She's in her room."

He ran, pushing her door open and rushing inside. There was a blur of motion and then she was in his arms, weeping and clutching at him desperately. The force of her embrace sent him staggering backwards.

"Khushi."

Arnav led her to the bed, where she huddled against him. She shook violently, sobbing hard as he whispered to her, clumsily offering comfort. Calming Di was one thing; a lifetime of experience had taught him the things to say and do, and when. But this ... this was different. Holding Khushi as she suffered triggered an almost primal protectiveness in him; he would do anything to stop her tears. Arnav whispered to her as he ran a hand over her hair, coaxing her to speak. Eventually, Khushi managed to tell him what had happened.

"Jiji's ... Abhishek-ji ... they ..."

It was the day of the wedding, and Payal's in-laws had called early in the morning to demand a dowry at the last minute.

"Babu-ji was shocked. When he asked why, they said ... Arnav-ji they said ..." Khushi hiccupped, "They said that since I'm engaged to a Raizada, to you, then we should be able to afford it."

Rage rose like a tide within him, stealing his breath and quickening his pulse. He released Khushi to stand and pace the room.

"Then what happened?"

"Babu-ji told them that he'd have to mortgage the house and the shop, that it would take time. They said that if he didn't have the money by the evening, they won't come at all."

"Where's Payal? Where are your Amma and Babu-ji?"

"Jiji went to the temple to pray. Amma is with her. Babu-ji went to see someone about money."

"Those ungrateful, greedy bastards," he seethed, running a hand through his hair.

"It will destroy Jiji if her marriage doesn't go ahead," Khushi wept, "it will destroy Babu-ji and Amma and Bua-ji."

"But Khushi, if your family pays them now, they'll only ask for more. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, or even this year. But eventually, they'll try this again."

"But Jiji ... her marriage ..."

His mouth twisted in fury. He, of all people, understood what women faced when a marriage alliance was broken. Di had suffered for years before she'd married Aman.

"What if I found something?" he asked, "Something that would convince them take back their demands?"

"How can we build a relationship with them based on threats and blackmail?"

In an instant, Arnav was towering over her as she sat on the bed. He resisted the urge to shake sense into her. "Khushi, _they've_ already decided to build a relationship on a bed of deceit. Try to understand."

She opened her mouth to protest, but a knock interrupted her. Shashi-Uncle came into the room.

"Uncle," Arnav strode over to shake his hand.

" _Babua_. Thank you for coming."

"Khushi told me everything."

Nodding, Uncle crossed the room to sit next to Khushi. She rested her head on his shoulder, taking one of his hands between hers. She was still shedding silent tears.

"They're the groom's side," Uncle said softly, "they can demand anything, and everything."

A memory of Di's tears as yet another another family rejected her suit came to mind. They'd cited her limp, the fate of their parents, her broken marriage and the unsuccessful alliances that followed, and demanded an outrageous amount for her dowry. And although Arnav could've paid it five times over without blinking, he'd been unwilling to watch as his sister made a home amongst those vipers.

He didn't want it for Khushi's sister either, but her tears weakened him.

"Uncle," he hesitated, reluctant to wound her father's pride, "If it's money ... I can ..."

"No, _babua_ ," Uncle gave a wan smile, "I've made a decision. I won't be beholden to that family for the rest of my life. What happiness could they possibly give my daughter?"

Khushi gasped.

"And anyway," Uncle turned to her, still stroking her hair, "the happiness of one daughter should not come at the expense of the other."

Arnav stood in silence as Khushi protested, trying to sway her father. But Uncle refused to budge, even when Khushi cited her sister's misery.

"Don't worry, child," he reassured her, "Devi Maiyya will show us the way."

Khushi rocked in disbelief as her father left to comfort her Bua-ji. She clutched a pillow to her chest. "This is all my fault."

"What the!? How the hell is any of this your fault?"

Khushi looked up. Her eyes and nose were red from crying, tears clung to her eyelashes, and her bottom lip quivered.

"If I hadn't said yes to marrying you, none of this would be happening."


	27. Chapter 25: Khushi

**Chapter 25: Khushi**

"This is all my fault."

"What the!? How the hell is any of this your fault?"

"If I hadn't said yes to marrying you," she mumbled, "none of this would be happening."

It had been _her_ engagement ceremony - held in the splendour of Shantivan - that had planted the seeds of greed in Abhishek-ji's heart.

Almost light-headed with grief, and desperately trying to swallow down the beginnings of hysteria, Khushi didn't notice the impact of her words at first. But the sudden chill in the room made her look up. Arnav-ji stood next to her small table, breathing shallowly as he considered her.

"This is all your fault," he repeated, "because you're engaged to _me_?"

"They're doing all this because I made an alliance with a rich family."

"So that's it? A family I've never met says two words, and you begin to doubt us?"

Khushi trembled. There was a storm in his eyes, a dark and terrible thing that sent a lick of fear up her spine.

"I'm not saying that," she tried to explain, "I'm saying that if I'd been less selfish, if I'd asked Babu-ji to wait until Jiji was married, then she would taking _phere_ right now."

"And the next time they ask for money? When Payal has a child on her a hip and another in her belly, and they turn to us because _Arnav Singh Raizada_ is her sister's husband? Then will you regret marrying me?"

"Arnav-ji you don't understand-"

"No, I don't understand. I don't understand a damned thing."

"I don't understand either," Khushi stood, flinging the pillow away and wishing irrationally that she was taller so she could meet him eye to eye, "You pay your way into restaurants, but here ... here where your money would mean something ... where my Jiji ..."

"I offered," he thundered, his hands clenched into fists and his eyes glinting with fury, "Even though it was wrong, even though it would condemn your sister to a lifetime of misery, I offered, _for you_."

"Babu-ji will never take money from you," Khushi scoffed, "You're his _damaad_. But you and I ... we could ... I can take a loan. I'll pay it back as soon as college is over and I have a job."

"You want me to loan you, _my future wife_ , the money for your sister's dowry? That's ridiculous!"

"I'll work in your office," she suggested desperately, "I'll work until my debt is cleared."

"Khushi-"

"I can type. I took a course. I can answer the phone, get you coffee, organise your meetings."

"Khushi, that's not-"

"Why won't you agree?" Khushi clutched at his lapel, frantic in her attempts to sway him, "Don't you care about me, my family, my Jiji?"

"Khushi, stop-"

"No, that's it isn't it?" Khushi spat her accusation as she stepped away, "You don't want to help!"

"Shut up!" Arnav-ji snarled, "I offered the money, Khushi. I did what I could. But you can't see that because you're too caught up in your middle class attitudes. Don't pay for privacy at a restaurant, but pay a despicable man to marry your sister."

There was a beat of silence, in which Khushi heard the echo of his words over and over.

 _Middle class._

"Well," she ignored the tremble in her voice, "at least now I know what you really think of me and my family. Get out, Mr Raizada. This middle class home must be stifling for you. I wouldn't want you to suffer a moment more."

"For God's sake Khushi stop over—"

"Please leave," Khushi interrupted him, "My family is going through a difficult time."

She turned away, hiding her tears.

"Look at me when I'm speaking to you, damn it."

Her heart felt bruised, as if something had squeezed it too tight.

"Khushi."

She thought – _hoped_ , in some corner of her mind – that he'd close the distance between them, hold her in his arms and apologise. She closed her eyes at the soft swish of his suit, every atom in her body anticipating his touch. An acceptance of his apology hovered on her lips.

So when the door to her bedroom swung open with its tell-tale creak and she heard him bid a soft, curt farewell to Babu-ji and Bua-ji, Khushi's knees buckled. She held onto the edge of her bed as disbelief flowed through her.

 _He's gone. He really left._

And that disbelief turned into hurt, which quickly solidified into anger, until she'd almost convinced herself that it was for the best, that his leaving now had saved them both a lot of heart ache.

Because what kind of a husband would he be, if he didn't use his wealth to help them? What kind of a _damaad_ , what kind of _jija_ , left his bride's sister to suffer such a terrible fate?

 _Who will marry Jiji now?_


	28. Chapter 26: Aakash

**Chapter 26: Aakash**

He held Di's elbow as they climbed the steps of the temple. The air, finally made cool by a noontime rain, ruffled his hair. A woman in a green sari elbowed past, almost forcing him to bump into Di, but he caught himself just in time.

"Sorry, Di."

"It's okay, Aakash. Look, we're almost there."

Di paused at the top of the steps, one hand holding her favourite _thaali_ and the other shaking the pleats of her sari. He used the time to wipe the fog from his glasses.

"Let's go?" Di asked with a small smile.

They made their way across the crowd at her pace, their progress slowed by the people stopping to swap greetings and ask after their family. He watched as Di smiled and exchanged pleasantries with people he barely knew, and ducked his head when their attention wandered to him. He wished for Bhai's confidence or Di's charm or Jija-ji's charisma.

But no, he'd hated crowds and new people since childhood, and that stifling anxiety hadn't disappeared in adulthood. Sometimes he feared it'd only intensified.

He lost himself in the familiar rhythms of worship when they finally reached the dais, seeking solace. Patience for his mother, who seemed determined to marry him off to the richest, most beautiful woman she could find. Good fortune for his father, over-worked with brokering a new deal for _AR_. Wisdom and clarity for Bhai, who was retreating into himself and shutting out the world. Strength for Di, who was desperately trying to hold two families together. Patience and empathy for Khushi-ji, and fortitude for her family, who were suffering something no family should ever be made to endure.

The mood in both houses was sombre. Di alternated between trying to make Bhai eat and visiting Laxmi Nagar to check on Khushi-ji's family. She shed tears constantly, being intimately familiar with Payal-ji's plight. Khushi-ji's family had been shunned and ridiculed, but now, two weeks later, it was finally dying down. Gupta-ji had even reopened the sweet store this morning.

They lingered at the end of the _aarti_ so Di could speak with the priest. Aakash looked around absently as he pulled out his phone, and froze when he noticed the small form almost hidden behind a pillar. He took two steps forward, stopping at a gentle touch to his arm.

"What's wrong, Aakash?"

He turned to Di briefly, unwilling to take his eyes off the figure unless she disappeared.

"Di, that's … that's Khushi-ji's sister."

"Payal-ji?" Di craned her neck to look in the direction he indicated.

They walked over, Di lightly resting her hand on his arm. He was filled with an odd anticipation, a sense of purpose. Payal-ji stared at them as they approached, wide-eyed and breathing hard.

 _Apprehension? Or fear?_

"Namaste Payal-ji," Di greeted too brightly.

"N-namaste Anjali-ji. Aa-Aakash-ji."

"Namaste," Aakash replied quietly.

She still looked unnerved, and thinking it would help her calm down, Aakash took a few steps away. He watched as Di spoke to her, noting that Payal-ji spoke to the floor rather than meet Di's eyes, twisting her _dupatta_ in her hands the entire time. He felt a curious concern swell inside him as he watched her. She was suffering through her ordeal with as much grace as she could muster.

He understood only the broadest strokes of what had happened on Payal-ji's wedding day. A last-minute demand for a dowry, a refusal, an abandoned altar, and an argument between his Bhai and Khushi-ji that had almost ended their engagement. _Almost_ , but not quite, because when Di had quietly asked Bhai if he'd called it off, he'd recoiled as if stricken by the mere idea before denying it vehemently.

It may not have been called off, but the engagement wasn't exactly thriving either. Gupta-ji called every few days to update the family, but as far as Aakash knew, Khushi-ji refused to speak to Bhai. And Bhai hadn't called either. Di said that they both needed time, but Aakash worried, in silence, if they should do more.

When Di eventually bid her farewells and joined him, her strained smile had given way to a genuine one.

"Payal-ji is so sweet, so strong."

Aakash looked back at her. She gave him a small, tight smile. His hand lifted of its own accord, as if to wave farewell, but he paused mid-gesture.

 _What are you doing, Aakash?_

His hand hung awkwardly as heat crept up the back of his neck. Anxiety took hold of him, sudden and brittle and unrelenting, offering only scorn and derision for his ill-thought gesture.

"Aakash."

Di's voice broke through, a lifeline that he gripped with everything he had, and his pulse finally began to slow.

"Let's go," he offered his arm, hoping she didn't notice the tremble in his voice.

He dropped Di home before returning to the office, where he tried to distract himself with work. But he was still thinking of the way Payal-ji had huddled against the pillar of the temple, as if she wanted nothing more than to be absorbed into the stone, as he trudged up the steps to his home. His helplessness was a heavy weight on his mind.

Aakash had dinner without noticing what he ate, nodding along to Maa's questions. His attention sharped briefly as Di mentioned her visit to the temple, but she didn't mention Payal-ji.

Later, he knocked on Bhai's door.

"Come in," came the gruff invitation.

"Bhai, I needed your signature."

He approached at his brother's distracted nod, and watched as he signed a series of documents with efficiency. His eyes were shadowed, he hadn't shaved in at least three days, and his entire form was hunched over.

 _Broken_ , Aakash thought with sudden clarity.

He hovered after he took the files back from Bhai, trying to find the right words.

"Anything wrong, Aakash?"

"Bhai we ... we saw Payal-ji at the temple."

His brother froze, his eyes still in the laptop in front of him, but his hands slowly clenched into fists. So tight that his knuckles turned white.

"How is she?" he asked roughly.

"Not well. But Di said she's much better than she was when … two weeks ago."

Bhai nodded sharply. "Was … was she alone?"

"Yes."

Aakash wouldn't have noticed the small sigh Bhai gave if he hadn't been watching for it, the only outward sign of his brother's disappointment. He realised just how desperate Bhai was for news of Khushi-ji.

"Bhai, is there anything we can do? For Kh— I mean, for Payal-ji's family?"

His brother slammed the laptop shut before striding to the glass doors that led to his private poolside. He stood bathed in silver, staring up at the moon.

"I wish I knew, Aakash."


	29. Chapter 27: Khushi

**Chapter 27: Khushi**

Khushi sat cross-legged on her bed as she stared at her phone. Texts from Arnav-ji scrolled across the screen. The messages she'd sent him far outnumbered his replies, which were always short and to the point. But peppered amongst them were flirtatious jokes, complaints, and once, even a smiling emoji.

Her heart ached for him. She'd picked up her phone a hundred times since that day, scrolled to his name and hovered her finger over the call button. But the memory of his fury, the way he'd looked at her, and his words – " _middle class"_ – stopped her.

Devi Maiyya seemed to frown from her perch on the desk.

"It's his fault, Devi Maiyya. He should call."

Her best friend didn't deign to reply.

Arnav-ji's family had constantly brought up his anger, but Khushi had convinced herself that their words were exaggerated in the same way Bua-ji insisted in calling her _Sanka Devi_.

But now she'd seen the coldness in his eyes, the way his fists had clenched as if he'd needed to hit something, heard the barely chained rage in his voice. And now she wondered whether their words held far more truth than she'd ever imagined.

The realisation that she'd created a version of him - a happy, loving, caring Arnav-ji with whom she'd fallen in love - robbed her of sleep.

" _Bitiya_."

Babu-ji stood at the door, his eyes shadowed and a tray of tea balanced in his hands. This had become a nightly ritual. Sometimes Jiji joined them, sometimes Bua-ji, but often it was just Khushi and her father. They sipped in silence for several long minutes, and Khushi wondered which tactic Babu-ji would try tonight.

"Khushi, child, you must call him."

"No."

"This has gone on long enough," Babu-ji said softly, "Far too long."

"Amma said I could take my time," Khushi said mulishly.

"Your mother ... she cannot see past the grief of one daughter. Here you are wrong, Khushi."

"I'm not! He says he wants to marry me but he didn't help Jiji when he had the chance. And now look at her! She doesn't sleep, she barely eats, and she spends more time at the temple than here with us."

"That's not Arnav- _bitwa_ 's fault. You can't blame him for what Abhishek has done."

"I'm not!" Khushi declared hotly, "I'm blaming him for what he did ... what he _didn't_ do."

"We're not entitled to his money," Babu-ji reminded her wearily.

"I didn't—" Khushi cut herself off, flushing.

She still hadn't confessed her humiliating suggestion of a loan, of her willingness to work off her debt as his personal assistant, of the way he'd rejected her. She'd never – _not once_ – thought they were entitled to Arnav-ji's money, but to admit that he'd turned down a loan was to admit the magnitude of her disgrace.

 _My fiancé doesn't love me enough to give me a loan._

Babu-ji took her in his arms and held her tight. Khushi pressed her eyes shut as a few tears escaped.

"Don't let your pride take this away from you, child."

Her one hope, her one ray of confidence, was that Arnav-ji hadn't called off their engagement. Babu-ji spoke to his family all the time, and so far, no one had mentioned breaking the ties that bound them together. Di visited every few days, bringing food and sweets. She sat with Jiji for hours, coaxing her out of her melancholy with small embroidery projects and cooking experiments. Di seemed to know exactly what to do, and although Jiji responded to her care, she sank back into despondency when Di had left for Shantivan.

Sometimes, Khushi wished she could go with Di. She knew that all she had to do was ask, that Di would react with nothing but unbridled delight, but it was the _asking_ that seemed so impossible.

 _Why doesn't he visit?_

Probably for the same reason she'd never called. Khushi didn't realise she'd spoken until her father answered.

"You asked him to leave. You'll have to ask him back."

The force of her longing took her breath away. Suddenly she wanted, more than anything, to see him again. To catch even the smallest glimpse of him. To hear his voice. To feel his touch. She sobbed as another wave of despair wracked her, and felt her resolve crack slightly. It felt like weakness, as though he'd defeated her somehow even in his absence.

Her father soothed as her as if she were still a child and urged her to sleep. When he was gone, Khushi ran to the window. Jiji sat on the divan, wrapped in a blanket and a cup of tea clutched in her hands. Something twisted inside her chest at her sister's glistening face.

 _Am I betraying Jiji if I love Arnav-ji?_

She returned to her bed, trying to unravel her furiously tangled thoughts, but it was hopeless. Khushi was still lying there, curled into a ball on her side and staring at the statue of Devi Maiyya, when her sister returned to the room.

She instantly shut her eyes.

Jiji rummaged through a drawer and padded to the bathroom before sliding into the bed with a sigh.

"Are you asleep?" she asked.

Khushi almost opened her eyes, but then remembered herself and squeezed them tightly instead.

"Hmmm," Jiji hummed, "The last time Khushi fell asleep clutching a pillow like this, she was upset because Bua-ji had to cancel a trip to Lucknow. I wonder what she's upset about now."

Some sixth sense alerted her to the danger, and Khushi sprang upright just as Jiji made to tickle her.

"Got you!" Jiji grinned.

Khushi pouted, "Jiji! Not fair."

"What did Babu-ji say to you tonight?"

"What! Nothing!" she twisted her hands into the blanket.

"I know he wants you to let go of your anger."

She bit her lip, unsure of what to say.

"Babu-ji said that Arnav-ji offered money," Jiji continued, "but he turned it down."

"Yes, he did."

"He's so generous to offer us money like that. He must love you a lot, Khushi."

 _I thought so too._

But he'd never said it, and now she doubted he ever would.

Jiji turned, taking Khushi's hands in hers, and stared at her so intently that Khushi squirmed.

"You're brave, and strong, and I love you. But you're also stubborn. The more we ask you to reconsider, the more you'll resist. But Khushi, he won't wait forever."

"Jiji ..."

"Remember how we used to dress up as princesses and wait for our princes to come and get us?"

"They'd always come on white horses" Khushi gave a slight smile, "and take us away and we'd live happily ever after."

"But sometimes it doesn't happen that way. Sometimes the prince doesn't want the princess, and the princess doesn't know what she did wrong."

"Wh-what?"

Jiji looked away, "Nothing. Forget it."

Recognising the deflection, Khushi placed a hand to her sister's shoulder, "Jiji, sometimes the prince is angry and mean, and he says and does things that hurt the princess."

"If you're doing this for me, then stop," Jiji turned back, "What kind of a home would they have given me? How could I have been happy there, amongst their greed and pettiness? Your Arnav-ji understood that. He tried to protect me. I know the princes in your stories sacrifice everything for the girls they love, but Khushi, he wanted to sacrifice what he has with _you_ to protect your Jiji and Amma and Babu-ji. Did you know he sent two security guards to the sweet shop today?"

"He did?" Khushi breathed around the ache in her chest.

"Call him," her sister implored, "he's waiting."

* * *

 _ **Author's Note -**_

 _Happy 2017 :) I hope this year is filled with amazing things for all of you!_

 _Firstly, let me thank you for supporting RISHTAA, for reading it and voting and leaving comments and talking to me! I am eternally grateful!_

 _I am now on Instagram! The username is_ _ **phatisari**_ _, and if you want to follow then please do!_

 _Take care,_

 _PS_


	30. Chapter 28: Arnav

**Chapter 28: Arnav**

Two nights later, Arnav glanced at his phone as it buzzed on the table. The caller ID scrolled across the screen - _"Pagal"_

His hand trembled as he reached for it. He breathed deeply before answering.

"Hi."

Silence.

And then a short sound; a sob. He closed his eyes as something unravelled inside him.

"Ssshhh. Don't cry."

Khushi sobbed again before whispering his name. Relief spread through him, warming him from inside out.

"Tell Uncle I'm coming over," he snatched his jacket from the back of the sofa as he stood, "I'll be there in twenty minutes."

"No," she whispered.

"You can't stop me. Not this time."

The drive to Laxmi Nagar was excruciating. Every small delay was torture. He battered the horn repeatedly, cursing every few minutes as he wove his white SUV through the chaos. His car squealed to a stop outside her home.

She was waiting on the verandah, her _dupatta_ wrapped about her for warmth and a cup of tea cradled in her hands. A second cup sat on the small table beside a teapot. Khushi stood as he slid out of his car, holding his gaze as he pushed the door closed and strode towards her. She took a few tentative steps forward, her lips trembling, before breaking into a run. He caught her, held her close. Breathed in the jasmine scent of her.

"Arnav-ji," Khushi sobbed into his jacket.

"Ssshhh."

Arnav patted her hair. His discomfort with her weeping subsided as he wound his fingers in the silk-softness. Her warmth seeped through him. Khushi gave one last, trembling sob before pulling away slightly. She blinked up at him.

"Hi," he said softly.

She sniffled, her bottom lip threatening to tremble again. He decided to distract her.

"Come with me."

"Babu-ji …" she protested.

"He'll understand. Just for a few minutes, Khushi."

Arnav led her to the car, her hand clasped firmly in his, and lifted her into the passenger seat. Then he slid into his own seat, turning the ignition and putting the car into gear before looking at her. She was watching him intently.

"A short drive," he explained, "So we can talk."

But minutes trickled by in silence as he drove out of Laxmi Nagar and towards Delhi. He stopped the car on a hilltop overlooking the city.

"Are we going to pretend it didn't happen?" he asked softly.

He gave a resigned sigh at her teary nod. "Okay then. How's everything."

"Babu-ji opened the shop again. Th-thank you for sending the security guards."

He waved her gratitude away, "It's fine."

"Babu-ji said … he said that you … your company won a contract?"

"Yeah," Arnav smiled, "We were awarded a contract in Europe. We're expanding to London next year."

"Europe? Like … Italy?" warmth finally seeped into her tone, "Salman-ji lived in Italy in _Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam_."

Arnav raised an eyebrow at her.

"Sorry," she blushed, "That's the only thing I know about Europe."

"That Shah Rukh Khan movie? Even I've seen that."

"Oh," her nose reddened, "Yes. _Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge_."

Arnav wondered at the awkward silence that settled between them. They'd never had trouble speaking to each other, not even in those first few days.

 _She's holding back._

"Khushi, we can't pretend it didn't happen."

"We'll fight again," the tremble in her voice triggered a sharp ache inside him.

He spoke around a sudden constriction in his chest, "How's Payal?"

"Jiji … she's getting better."

"Are you sure? Is there anything I can do?"

"No, she just needs time," Khushi took a deep breath, "You … you won't understand, Arnav-ji, what a woman goes through when her marriage breaks on the day she was supposed to take her vows."

Arnav looked away, his fingers toying with the steering wheel as he considered. He saw Khushi shiver out of the corner of his eye and switched on the heating.

 _She's going to be your wife. She'll find out eventually._

"I understand," he mumbled.

"What?"

He twisted his mouth, staring unseeing at the lights spread out before them.

"I know what a woman goes through. Di and Aman have been married three years, Khushi. You never wondered why Di didn't marry earlier?"

"No, I didn't … I didn't think …"

"Her first marriage … when it broke …" he lapsed into silence.

"What happened?" she reached over to clasp his hand in both of hers.

Arnav resisted the urge to wrench his hand away from her. His pulse raced as the memories overwhelmed him – Di dressed as a bride; his own happiness at seeing her grin; Sheesh Mahal decorated gloriously to welcome her groom and celebrate the alliance; a gunshot; his mother's scream; Di weeping next to two shrouded forms, still dressed as a bride; her abandoned altar.

Khushi's hands fluttered over his shoulders as she tried to embrace him in the awkward confines of the car. He slid his seat backwards before pulling her across the console and into his lap. Once settled, she looked away, blushing at the unfamiliar intimacy. Arnav held her closer.

"Sorry," she whispered, "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Let's leave that story for another day."

He tried to tell her the rest, speaking quickly in an effort to lessen the pain the words inspired.

"Di endured a string of suitors, each more ungrateful and greedy than the last. They demanded compensation for everything from her broken marriage to her limp to our …" Arnav cut himself off, "Khushi, please understand, I've seen this before. I didn't want Di to marry into those families. I don't want that for your sister either."

Khushi nodded as she sniffled slightly.

"I never want to fight with you again," she mumbled miserably.

"Hmmm," he broke into a genuine smile, "so you're calling off the wedding, then?"

"What!? No!"

"That's the only way to make sure we never fight again."

Khushi blinked at him.

"We're going to fight," Arnav traced a finger across her cheek, "we're going to have small fights and big fights. You'll threaten to return to your parents and I'll sleep on the sofa."

He cut her off when she opened her mouth to protest, "But what's important is that we talk to each other. None of this no-speaking-for-three-weeks nonsense, okay?"

"You left," her whisper almost broke his heart.

"You didn't stop me," he murmured a reply, "or ask me to come back until today."

"I was angry."

"And now?"

Khushi shook her head, biting her lip as tears pooled in her eyes. "Not anymore. I'm sor-sorry I—"

"—Good," her interrupted her apology, "I missed you."

He kissed her cheek, tasting salt. She snuggled closer, burying her face against his shoulder. Arnav closed his eyes, content in finally having her back in his arms. She shifted.

His eyes snapped open at the featherlight touch of her lips against his neck. Khushi started to move away, eyes shadowed, but he tightened his hold. He brought her mouth to his with a groan, two fingers under her chin and his heart hammering in his chest. She shuddered against him.

He'd been careful, unsure of where she drew the line before marriage, but that control shattered as her hands moved over his chest. His pulse juddered and skipped and stopped before restarting, fast and loud and vital. He rang his tongue over her lips, seeking permission, and plunged inside at her moan. His hands travelled up and down her sides, across her back, before one tangled in her hair. His body aching with desire, he pulled her closer. She cupped his jaw with one hand, the other clutching his shoulder, nails biting into his skin through his shirt.

Khushi shifted, trying to get even closer, and the movement sent lightening zipping through his over-eager body. She pulled away with a gasp, her eyes wide as she looked down between them, and started to climb off.

"Stop wiggling," his voice was deep, _rough_ , almost pained as she moved against him.

Her eyes flew to his as she realised what he meant. Mortified, she hid her face in her hands.

"Sssshhh," Arnav chuckled, carefully gathering her close, "Give me a moment, and then we'll drive back to your house and drink tea like proper courting couple?"

Khushi nodded, giggling softly against his chest.

"I missed you too," she said.


	31. Chapter 29: Payal

**Chapter 29: Payal**

Payal blew into her cup of tea as she leaned against the window. Khushi and Arnav-ji had returned from their drive a few minutes ago, and Amma had delivered a fresh pot of tea to them on the verandah. She watched her sister smile shyly at Arnav-ji as she handed him a cup. He winked at Khushi as he sipped. Payal turned away.

 _Khushi finally called him._

Happiness blossomed within her, knowing that Khushi's smile would now return.

 _Now if only my smile ..._

" _Payalia_ , what are you doing near the window?" Bua-ji called from her perch on the settee, "It's bad enough that our _Sanka Devi_ is sitting outside with Arnav- _babua_. Get away from there, you'll catch a cold."

Nodding, Payal returned to her seat next to Amma.

"Are they talking?" Amma leaned over to whisper.

"Yes," Payal smiled, "It looks like their fight is over."

"Thank Devi Maiyya. I was beginning to worry."

"Khushi is strong, but she can be very stubborn," Payal said fondly.

 _Would things be different if I was strong like Khushi? Would Abhishek-ji have loved me more?_

She tried to smile at her parents, wishing she had Khushi's knack of coaxing smiles out of everyone. Her sister, if she were here, would make a joke or sing a song to banish the melancholy in the room.

"Garima-ji, you were worrying for nothing," Babu-ji interjected into the silence, "Our daughter is smart and capable. And Arnav- _babua_ is a good man."

 _Meaning that Abhishek-ji was not_.

Payal finished her tea in silence, turning her father's words over in her mind. Arnav-ji _was_ a good man. His offer to pay the dowry, when he could've so easily distanced himself from everything, had awed her. But he was rich – so rich that he was in the newspapers and on the TV – and she sympathised with Khushi's confusion over Babu-ji's refusal to take the money. It was his _family's_ kindness that touched Payal.

His sister visited often, bringing small gifts and a ready smile. Anjali-ji seemed to know when she wanted to talk and when she needed silence, when she needed to eat and when she wanted to be left alone.

Aakash-ji was a gentle presence on her morning visits to the temple. He accompanied Anjali-ji on most days, solid and dependable and quiet, and Payal had come to look forward to his company.

Arnav-ji's Nani had sent some embroidery patterns, and she and Anjali-ji were working hard to master them.

 _At least I'll be able to help Bua-ji with her embroidery business. Her pension is stuck again._

The front door opened, revealing Khushi and Arnav-ji. Khushi made for the kitchen, the tray of tea in her hands.

Arnav-ji gave a small smile as he brought his hands together. "Namaste."

Amma offered him a seat as everyone greeted him. She ignored his protests about the late hour and harried him into a dining chair. Payal bit back a smile, watching as they all pretended that he and Khushi hadn't been fighting for three weeks.

Khushi returned to the room as Bua-ji asked after his family. He paused mid-sentence, his eyes flicking over to Khushi, who wrung her hands as she looked between him and the rest of the family.

 _She doesn't know where to sit_ , Payal realised.

A stab of jealousy surprised her as Arnav-ji offered his own chair before fetching a second dining chair, which he placed next to her. She guiltily tried to push the feeling aside but it persisted. They seemed to speak to each other with their eyes.

 _Khushi's found her rajkumar_.

The despondent jealousy within her only added to her glum mood. The fact that Khushi was her cousin – Amma's sister's daughter – was rarely mentioned within their household. Khushi had been eight when she'd come to live with them and from that first night when she'd curled herself against Payal, sobbing as she asked after her parents, she'd been a true younger sister.

 _And what kind of a sister am I?_

Payal leaned over and whispered an excuse to her mother before fleeing to the small bedroom she shared with Khushi. Her tears threatened to spill as she sat on the edge of their bed, ducking slightly to avoid the gold and silver stars that hung from the frame. Her eyes found the small statue of Devi Maiyya.

"I know you're Khushi's special friend," she began, feeling slightly absurd, "but you help us all when we need you. Don't you?"

She moved to sit at the desk.

"I need you," her voice broke, "I can't ... I don't want to watch my family like this. I'm trying to smile and I'm trying to eat but all I can think about is how I wasn't good enough. His family ... they are whatever they are ... but _he_ didn't want to marry me. He didn't even want to speak to me."

An image of Abhishek-ji sitting on their small settee, sipping tea as he smiled at her, flashed into her vision. He'd been nice and polite and she'd liked him from the moment her eyes had found his.

 _Lies. All lies._

But her heart wouldn't listen. She still wished for the future she'd dreamt of, a life with his parents and his younger sisters.

"Jiji?"

Payal mopped up her tears with her _dupatta_ , grateful that Khushi had knocked before opening the door.

"Your Arnav-ji is gone?"

"Yes," Khushi gave a small smile, "but he's asked us all to come to his offices on Saturday. He said there's something he wants us to see."

"Do you know what it is?"

Khushi broke into a grin, bouncing excitedly, "Yes! And Jiji, I just know that you'll love it!"

She bounded up to bestow a long hug before grabbing a towel and disappearing into the bathroom. Payal watched her go, relief spreading through her.

 _At least she's happy again._

She made ready for bed, fishing out a set of sleeping clothes and brushing her hair as she waited for her sister to finish in the bathroom. Khushi emerged, her hair wrapped in a towel, and made straight for her phone, back to her routine of texting her fiancé before bed. Payal gently smacked her sister on her head as she passed.

She brushed her teeth and changed, trying not to look at her puffy face in the mirror. Instead, her eyes found her left hand, and the space that'd once been occupied by a small diamond ring. They'd sold it to cover the lost income from the sweet shop.

Her tears threatened to return, so Payal splashed her face with cold water before returning to the bedroom. She sat behind her sister and began to braid her hair, as if Khushi was still eight years old and in need of comfort.

"I'm glad you called Arnav-ji."

"I'm glad too Jiji."

"When I saw you two sitting together today, I realised you'd found your _rajkumar_. He loves you very much."

"Does he?" Khushi's voice trembled.

"I'm sure he tells you every day when he texts you, _Pagal_ ," Payal smiled.

"That Laad Governor?" her sister snorted delicately, "He's never said it."

"Well, then," she said briskly, trying to cover her mistake, "he should tell you soon. Have you told him?"

As expected, the question diverted Khushi from her sadness.

"Me! Hai Devi Maiyya, are you listening to her? Me, tell Arnav-ji that I love him!"

"Don't you love him?"

"He's the man, he has to go first."

"Mmmm," Payal stifled a giggle as she tied off the plait, "Aren't you always saying you're a modern woman? Independent and strong? Do you think modern women can say it first?"

Her sister swung around, hiding her face in her hands. Her voice was muffled when she spoke, "Jiji, I can't ..."

"I'm sure you'll think of something," Payal smiled.


	32. Chapter 30: Arnav

**Chapter 30: Arnav**

The wind screamed in his ears.

His left hand worked the clutch as he changed gears with his left foot, and the engine responded instantly. He leaned into a turn, adjusting the brake with his right foot as he shifted his weight slightly to compensate for the change in centre of gravity. The motorcycle tilted precariously, bringing the tarred surface of the road so close that he could reach out and touch it.

Then he straightened out, staring through his helmet at the two kilometre stretch of perfectly straight road ahead.

 _Heaven._

He changed gears again, relishing the roar of of the engine as the bike picked up speed. Fast, and then faster, until everything was a blur. His body and mind entered that unique state of hyperawareness he associated with this method of transport – his thoughts raced, considering everything from the wind speed to the slickness of the road to the likelihood of another vehicle approaching from the other direction. His muscles reacted to every bump in the road, every pothole and obstruction he avoided by weaving left and right. He was aware of everything.

A heady sense of power came over him. There was nothing he relished more than this, the feeling of being able to bend even physics to his will with the power of two hundred horses beneath him.

It was better than sex.

Almost.

Arnav couldn't stop a grin as he slowed the bike down to a more reasonable speed, making a series of familiar turns to rejoin Delhi traffic. He headed towards Laxmi Nagar, his pulse quickening at the thought of seeing Khushi.

 _I wonder how she'll like the bike._

He imagined her mouth falling open in shock as she took in his dark jeans, long sleeved T-shirt and black leather jacket. His mind was instantly diverted, imagining the feel of her as she pressed against his back, her hands around his waist and her legs astride the bike. His body threatened to ignite.

 _Four more months, Arnav._

He squealed to a stop in front of her house, taking a moment to lower the kickstand before taking his foot of the brake. He slid off the helmet and ran a hand through his hair. Khushi had pointed out that it needed a trim last week, but he still hadn't gotten around to it. Arnav swung his leg over and stowed the helmet before making his way to her door. He paused, looking down at himself, and grinned.

 _I look like a troublemaker of the worst kind._

"He's here!" Khushi's voice rang out at his knock, "Babu-ji, I'll be back before ten as usual."

He tried to pat down his hair as he waited. Her family had been reluctant to allow unchaperoned meetings in the evenings, even after their engagement, but Nani and Di had managed to convince them to allow it. There was a never-ending list of rules, including a strict curfew that he found stifling, but it was better than not seeing her outside of the family gatherings Di organised.

Khushi rushed outside, barely sparing him a glance as she shut the door behind her.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry, I was cooking for Amma and then Bua-ji wanted ..." she trailed off as she turned.

"Hi."

Her mouth fell open as her gaze raked over him. "What are you wearing?"

"I have a surprise for you," Arnav took her hand, "I think you'll like it."

Khushi gave him a tentative smile as she allowed him to lead her off the verandah. He felt a tug on his hand as they approached the bike, and turned around to find that she'd frozen.

"Relax," he soothed, "I'll take care of you."

He took a few steps towards her, intending to hold her, but she took two steps back.

"Khushi?" he asked, realizing something was wrong.

"I ... I c-can't."

He glanced at the bike, "It's fine. I have a helmet for you, and I'll go slowly. Don't you trust me?"

To his utter bewilderment, she shook her head. His ever-present anger solidified as she took another step backwards, trying to get away.

"Khushi, what the hell? You don't trust me to take care of you?"

He only realised she was crying when the light from the verandah hit her face. A memory slammed into him at the sight – "My parents died in an accident when I was eight."

 _Damn it._

Arnav pulled her into his arms and she sobbed against him as he cursed himself for not seeing her distress sooner.

"Ssshhhh," he soothed clumsily.

Khushi hiccupped, huddling even closer. He looked around, noting with a grimace that some of her neighbours were standing at their windows and doors, staring at them as they embraced.

 _Damn it._

"Come," he led her to the wicker outdoor furniture on her verandah, "Sit."

He sat with her, feeling hopeless, _useless_.

"I was eight years old when my Amma and Babu-ji died in an accident," her voice trembled, pitched so low that he had to strain to hear it.

"I remember," Arnav reached for her, "You told me once."

He wrapped his arms around her. Khushi turned into his shoulder, mumbling her words.

"I didn't ... I didn't know what it meant, that they'd ... they'd died. I thought ... I thought they'd gone somewhere. That they'd come back."

He blinked back tears. His parents had died when he was fourteen, and Di eighteen, but they'd both understood what had happened. In the beginning, there had been moments where he'd wished he'd been younger, that he'd been able to hold on to his innocence. But now his heart broke as he considered Khushi's plight, forced to live with her uncle and aunt without understanding why her parents had abandoned her.

"I believe they've become stars, so I sleep with stars hanging above my bed," she continued, "I'm still afraid of fast cars. I'm afraid of sleeping alone. I'm afraid of the dark."

Arnav let her snuggle closer, uncaring now of the eyes still on them.

"Khushi," he stroked her hair, "I understand. You won't be alone, I promise. I'll always be with you."

"Now you know everything about me, Arnav-ji."

He wondered if he'd ever have the courage to confide in her, to relive the horrors of that night and admit to the tragedy that had shaped so many lives. He wondered if she'd change her mind about marrying him if she knew the hideous truth.

 _I can't risk it_ , he told her silently, _I love you too much to let you go._

As usual, something held him back, refusing to allow the words to form on his tongue.

"Thank you," he said instead, "Your trust means a lot to me."

"Would you ..." Khushi sat up, fiddling with her _dupatta_ as she avoided his eyes, "Would you like to me-meet ... meet them?"

His heart seemed to still. "Khushi ..."

"Come."

She led him by the hand to the small courtyard area alongside the house, where she ensured he was comfortable on the divan before perching on its edge. A small smile, and then she was pointing up to the clear night sky. Two stars seemed to twinkle a little brighter.

"My heart tells me that that star is my Amma, and the one next to her is my Babu-ji."

Arnav thought of Mamma, of her smile and her fragrance and her hand on his forehead. He swallowed hard.

"They're always watching over me," Khushi continued, "Always twinkling and always smiling."

Mamma's hands on his as she taught him bury seeds in soil.

Her pout when she called him "grumpy."

Her laughter.

Her tears.

"Do they truly become stars?"

The words rolled off his tongue quicker than he could snatch them back and he waited with bated breath for her response.

Her words, when they came, were a soft tremble in the silence. "It's not about truth or falsehood, it's about faith."

She shifted until she could rest her head on his shoulder and twined their fingers together in her lap. Her breaths were even and soft against neck.

 _Is Mamma happy when she sees me? Is she proud of me?_

But the questions got lost somewhere on the way to his mouth.

And perhaps that was for the best.

* * *

 _Author's Note:_

 _Thanks for reading :)_ _The scene with Arnav on a motorbike is the first scene that popped into my head for RISHTAA. It was such a powerful scene that I spent a lot of time wondering what he was doing, where he was going, and why. RISHTAA formed itself over a year around this scene, so I'm glad that I've finally shared it._

 _I wanted to say a few words._ _RISHTAA is the story of two families. It always has been. There will chapters where Khushi and Arnav are not with each other, and chapters that do not feature their romance, and chapters that focus on other storylines. As in the serial, there will also be what people refer to as "filler" chapters. These chapters are necessary because they set up the next track or arc. Stories sometimes need slower chapters to allow for character introspection and growth, but that doesn't mean that important things aren't happening. The seeds for the next track have been laid and I hope you enjoy what unfolds next._


	33. Chapter 31: Khushi

**Chapter 31: Khushi**

Khushi smoothed her hands down the front of her pink and cream suit as she waited for her family to alight from the car Arnav-ji had sent. She gazed up at the building in wonder, all blue-tinged windows and blocky, before her eyes found the AR logo on a brick wall. Pride swelled inside her.

" _Bitiya_?"

Her father came to stand next to her, gazing appreciatively at the glass doors that marked the entrance to the biggest textile empire in India.

"He built this himself," Khushi said, wonder suffusing her tone.

"He's one of a kind," Babu-ji nodded.

"My _damaad_ is a diamond," Bua-ji had heard, "A diamond I tell you. So accomplished and polite, even with all this wealth."

 _Money is power, Khushi, and I have a lot of money._

Her smile faded with the memory of his words but Khushi forced it back, mindful of the tentative happiness on her sister's face. Jiji looked glad to be out of the house. Khushi took her sister's hand and guided her up the steps to the entryway, where they were met by two security guards.

" _Namaste_ ," she greeted brightly, "Arnav-ji invited us."

They were both dressed in black, with the AR logo sewn into the front in red thread. They wore no nametags. They were roughly the same height, though one was broader in the shoulders than the other, and wore matching frowns. Khushi named the first Raju and the other Bunty in her mind, and smiled as they exchanged a look.

Raju walked inside while Bunty consulted a clipboard, "Name?"

"Khushi Kumari Gupta. This is my Jiji, and that's my Babu-ji, my Amma, and my Bua-ji."

He nodded absently as he scanned his papers, and then opened the doors before motioning them through, "Take a seat in reception, someone will come down for you."

Khushi flashed a smile at her parents before walking, arm still linked with Jiji's. Her confidence faltered as she crossed the threshold, however. The entrance hall was painted a bright white, with red accents. Grey sofas lined the edges of the room, and a reception desk stood at the far end, a gateway into the offices beyond. The receptionist manning the desk wore a bright pink top, with matching pink hoops in her ears and her hair in a complicated-looking pile on her head. Her makeup was flawless, her skin dewy and eyes made large with kohl and eye shadow.

Instantly, Khushi felt self-conscious, the cream, lipstick, and _kajal_ she'd applied this morning seeming insignificant in comparison to that lady's perfection. And her outfit, painstakingly picked out the night before in an attempt to look the part of _Future-Mrs-Raizada_ , now seemed out of place.

"Khushi, what's wrong?" Jiji tugged on her arm.

She came back to herself, shaking her head, and led her family to the sofas nearest to them, "Nothing, Jiji. Let's sit down. I'll text Arnav-ji to let him know that we're here."

"Oh my God, who let these _behen_ -ji's in here?"

Khushi looked up at the scathing, high pitched words to see two girls staring in her direction. One wore dark, tight fitting pants and a bright yellow top with no sleeves. Her hair was slicked back into a high ponytail and her shoes were at least 3 inches high. The other wore a bright blue dress, held up by two thin straps and ending two hand spans above her knees. Khushi followed the line of her long legs down to platform shoes in a shade of blue that almost exactly matched her dress.

"What are they wearing? Look at those shoes. And those _jhumki_! I'd die if I had to dress like that."

Embarrassment curled within her as she glanced at her parents, but they were whispering to Bua-ji and paying no attention. Blessedly, Jiji had fallen into a daydream and hadn't heard anything either. Her unease turned into anger as the ladies continued, snidely commenting on everything from their _salwar_ suits to their plaits and the pom-poms which hung from her sleeves.

Khushi stood, her mind racing as she gathered the words to tell these ladies that while they had the freedom to dress however they wanted – all exposed shoulders and knees and bright lipstick – they had no right to belittle her or her family.

"Khushi-ji, I'm so glad you're here!"

The two ladies were silenced as Di stepped into view with Aakash-ji trailing her. Khushi hugged Di and smiled at Aakash-ji before turning to watch as Di greeted the rest of her family.

"Let's go?" Aakash-ji invited when the polite hellos were complete, "Bhai's meeting is running late but he'll join us as soon as he can."

As they followed Aakash-ji past the reception desk, Khushi couldn't resist stealing a glance at the two ladies. Their faces were pinched as though they'd swallowed lemons, and the shorter one had red blotches on her cheeks. The satisfaction that surged through Khushi at the sight was quickly chased away by guilt.

 _I'm sorry, Devi Maiyya. I know I shouldn't be petty. But it's so hard after all they said about us!_

Di explained what AR Designs did as she led them past a glass partition but Khushi hung back, wanting privacy.

The office opened up into a bullpen area, all white and red with splashes of black, where most of the employees sat at desks with shiny new computers. There was constant movement, an ebb and flow of people crossing the space to speak to others or to disappear into the offices that lined the walls. A spiralled staircase led to an enormous cabin that loomed overhead, encased entirely in glass to provide a clear view of the workers below.

 _Arnav-ji._

There was so much of him in the architecture of the office alone – clean lines, bold shapes, and splashes of red to add brightness and hint at power. Her heart ached with the need to see him, to hold him and tell him how proud she was of him.

Di paused half-way down a corridor lined with closed doors, seemingly distracted by something behind them. She seemed suddenly nervous as she opened a door and ushered everyone inside. Frowning as she pondered Di's odd behaviour, Khushi made to follow her family but froze when a warm hand settled at her waist.

"Sssshhhh, it's me. I'm taking you away."

Happiness and relief surged within her as Arnav-ji took her hand. His eyes never left hers as he pressed a kiss to her palm before leading her back along the corridor and up to his cabin. He locked the door before turning to her.

"Hi."

Suddenly, she was conscious of their seclusion.

 _Will he kiss me again, like Emraan Hashmi-ji kisses his heroines?_

Khushi turned away, blushing. There was a faint buzz as the quality of the light changed in some unquantifiable way, and then Arnav-ji was right behind her. His hands rested on her shoulders.

"Everyone can see …" she protested.

"See that there?" he turned her gently as he pointed to a small button on the wall, "That button controls the tint on the glass. Now we can see out, but no one can see in."

"Are you sure?"

"What makes you think I'd want an audience when I'm with you?"

His tone was low and gruff, and her tummy gave a low swoop at his words. His breath was warm against her neck.

"You always smell so …" he pressed a kiss to her cheek before running his nose along her jaw.

Her eyelids fluttered closed as he kissed her shoulder. Arnav-ji tilted her head before kissing his way to her neck. Her hand found his hair and tugged as he bit her earlobe. In sync, they shifted until he could brush his lips against hers. He held her closer, supporting her as her knees threatened to buckle.

She didn't know how long they stood there, lost in each other, but they broke apart when his phone emitted a series of low beeps. Arnav-ji groaned as he pressed his lips to her temple.

"We have to go," his tone was laced with regret.

Still breathless, Khushi could only nod. It was only when he draped her _dupatta_ around her neck that she realised it had slipped off as they'd … conversed … and that he'd deftly bundled it in his hand before it found the floor.

Arnav-ji led her out, pausing at the door to his cabin to bestow another electrifying kiss before entwining their fingers. His employees jumped out of their way as they hurried down the stairs, across one corridor and down another, and stopped at the door Di had taken everyone through. Khushi twisted her fingers in his grip, but he held firm.

"Relax."

And with that, he strode through the door, her hand still trapped in his.

Amma and Babu-ji looked up from the _sari_ they were admiring. Di and Jiji paused, their hands hovering over jewellery sets. Aakash-ji's mouth fell open almost comically.

" _Hai re Nand Kishore_!" Bua-ji raised a hand to her head, "Where did you disappear to, _Sanka Devi_?"

"Bua-ji … I …"

"I wanted to show her my cabin," Arnav-ji replied smoothly as he ran his thumb over her knuckles, "Khushi should see where I work."

"Khushi-ji, you'll have to be vigilant," Di grinned as she approached, "or that laptop will become your _sauten_."

The awkwardness seeped from the atmosphere as laughter rang out. Arnav-ji released her hand – _thank Devi Maiyya_ – to greet Amma, Babu-ji and Bua-ji. Khushi smiled as he touched their feet and took their blessings.

"As Di will have no doubt mentioned," he addressed the whole room, "AR is preparing for its second biggest annual show in two months. We're working on some new designs, experimenting with the new factory in Lucknow, and launching our first line of jewellery pieces."

Khushi marvelled at the authority and power in his tone. He looked and sounded every bit like the fashion mogul she'd read about in the newspapers.

"I want to do something different with the jewellery," he continued, "I don't just want the highest quality stones and metalwork, I want them to be one-off, unique pieces, all hand tooled by the finest craftsmen. When someone wears these pieces, they should know that it's the only one of its kind in the world."

Here Arnav-ji smiled and extended his hand towards his sister. Di exchanged a surprised look with Aakash-ji before approaching.

"Di, I want you to design one of the pieces."

Khushi grinned as she clapped with everyone else. Arnav-ji had outlined his plan to her over tea on the night their argument had ended. Delighted, Khushi had made one small suggestion, which he'd wholeheartedly agreed to.

"Your Arnav-ji is very thoughtful," Jiji had approached unnoticed.

"He's not finished yet," Khushi grinned conspiratorially, "and yes, he's everything a husband should be. Maybe we should ask Nani-ji if there's a cousin she can introduce us to?"

"Khushi!" Jiji swatted playfully at her, blushing crimson.

Arnav-ji raised an eyebrow at their antics, asking a silent question, but Khushi only winked in reply.

"Uncle, Aunty," he turned to her parents, "I want both our sisters involved in the launch of AR's first jewellery line. I think Payal should design a set too; she can visit with Khushi every week and work with our designers and jewellers."

She may have missed it, had she been a second slower, but as Khushi turned to her sister she found Jiji looking not at Arnav-ji, not even at Di, but at Aakash-ji.

And Aakash-ji was _looking back at her_.

Khushi watched as something unspoken passed between the two of them before they both looked away.

And an idea, a thought that was as insane as it was perfect, germinated in her mind.

* * *

 _Author's Note:_ _As usual, thank you very much for reading :)_


	34. Chapter 32: Aakash

**Chapter 32: Aakash**

"Maa!"

"You have to look like Mr India! Your Miss India is coming to meet you!"

Sighing, Aakash allowed his mother to straighten his jacket.

" _Maate_ , I'm too busy for this right now."

"No one is too busy to meet his future wife. Your in-laws own a chain of stores and your wife is one of the most _beautiphool_ girls in the city. Together, you will be Mr and Mrs India!"

"But …" the feeble protest died on his lips.

Maa reached into the wardrobe for cologne.

"I don't wear that!"

Ignoring him, she sprayed some on his suit, "I asked your Bhai to bring this for you on his last trip. You need to look and smell like a rich man, _bitwa_."

He ducked as she aimed the spray at his face, and caught sight of Bhai as he paused at the door. Relieved, Aakash pleaded for help with a series of silent gestures.

"Uhh, Mami-ji …" Bhai spoke from the doorway, "I'll help him, you still have to get ready."

Aakash ran a cursory eye over his mother's blue and yellow sari, matching jewellery and makeup.

 _What else could she possibly have left to do?_

"I have to fix my hair," Maa answered his unspoken question, "You finish up with him and bring him downstairs, Arnav- _bitwa_. They'll be here soon!"

Bhai stepped aside to allow Maa to bustle out of the room before smirking.

"Unbelievable."

Aakash couldn't hide his grin. "Papa asked her earlier if the family was coming to see me or her, and offered to leave her if she wanted to marry again."

Bhai's laugh was short but genuine. Aakash placed the bottle of cologne on a table before looking up. His pulse sped up as Bhai asked a question.

"You don't want this, do you?"

Lying to Bhai was impossible. "No. But Maa and Papa …"

Bhai nodded.

"Meet her," he suggested, "and then say no."

Just like that, as if it was that simple. And maybe for Bhai … it was.

Aakash pressed his lips together.

"We are not all Arnav Singh Raizada," he spoke as stuffed the unwanted cologne into the wardrobe, "that we get to say no again and again."

"Then say yes. One girl is much the same as any other."

Startled, Aakash faced his brother, "Do you still believe that, Bhai? After everything that's happened."

"I don't," came the smooth reply, "I'm testing something Khushi said last week."

"And … did I pass?"

"No," Bhai flashed a grin in his direction as he stood, "and that means that I won our bet. Now come, let's meet your Miss India."

Grimacing, Aakash allowed his brother to lead him out of the room, trying to banish the memory of a small figure huddled against a temple pillar.

 _What's happening to me?_

* * *

Kavya Aggarwal was tall and beautiful, immaculate in a trendy _kameez_ and designer jewellery. Her father was a third-generation jeweller, of the esteemed Aggarwal Jewellers, and Maa had no doubt factored in the potential wedding gifts alongside the qualities of her future daughter-in-law.

Papa sat to the side, content as usual to let Maa take the lead.

"Your daughter is so _beautiphool_ , an absolute gem. My _bitwa_ , he is so handsome. Mr India! And your daughter, she can be his Mrs India!"

Aakash felt his mouth twist. Bhai's eyebrow was in danger of disappearing into his hairline. Di shook with laughter for a brief moment before composing herself but Papa was not so fortunate – his indelicate snort earned him a glare from Maa as the Aggarwals exchanged bewildered glances.

"Manorama …" Dadi-ji's tone held a warning that Maa ignored.

"I think your Kavya is perfect for my son. What do you think?"

This last was addressed to his father, who snapped to attention with a stammer, "Uhh, yes, well … Aakash should probably …"

"Aakash is a shy boy, _bery_ shy, but I can tell that he likes her. Aakash, son, show Kavya the _poolwa_."

Panic flared in his chest. "Maa, I think …"

"It's fine," grinned Mrs Aggarwal as she placed her untouched up of tea on the table, "I'm sure you and Kavya have a lot to talk about."

Kavya-ji stood gracefully, her _kameez_ elegantly falling about her as she picked her way to his side. She cocked her head expectantly when he didn't move.

"Shall we …?"

He led the away, refusing to look at Bhai or Di as he passed by, and opened the sliding doors that led to the poolside. Kavya-ji surveyed the space with interest.

"You have gardeners?"

"No … Bhai … Bhai takes care of these."

"The great ASR? Pot plants?" the incredulity in her tone was hard to miss.

Aakash nodded, the warmth of pride swelling inside his chest, "Bhai has always loved gardening. He finds his peace amongst the plants."

"And where you do you find your peace?"

He sucked in a breath, turning instinctively away from her as he replied, "In books. Movies. It's … juvenile, I know."

"I like movies," she offered, "I watch one every week. On release day if I can manage it."

Turning back to her, Aakash suddenly decided that her eyes were the wrong shade of brown.

Another pair of eyes, bright and warm, swam into his vision.

The woman who belonged to those eyes was at once strong and vulnerable, and that combination intrigued him as nothing else ever had. She'd barely registered when they'd first met, just the sister of Bhai's bride, but now …

The temple meeting had triggered something inside him.

"Aakash!"

He blinked, registering Kavya-ji's hand in front of his face as she waved it frantically.

"Where did you go?" her frown betrayed her irritation though her words didn't.

Heat crept up the back of his neck, uncomfortable and cloying, "Sorry, I was thinking about work."

"I asked," she began with exaggerated patience, "whether you wanted to meet again, maybe lunch next week? Our parents seem eager enough."

Kavya-ji gestured towards the sitting room, where Maa was plying Mrs Aggarwal with more sweets as Papa nodded along to something Mr Aggarwal said. Di and Dadi-ji engaged Mrs Aggarwal in conversation. Bhai had disappeared.

"Are you really open to the idea of an arranged marriage?"

The words were out of his mouth before he'd given himself permission to speak. Kavya-ji cut a surprised glance at him before pursing her lips.

"You mean that, with my background and family, you expected me to choose for myself?"

Aakash nodded.

"Marriage is a partnership," she trailed an idle finger along a bright green leaf, "A deal of sorts. "

For a heartbeat, he feared that she had become confused in her choice of _ASR_ — that she wanted Bhai, and not him. But then —

"It is more than a formality, however. I think that, with the right person, marriage could be enjoyable. Fun."

She hadn't mentioned love, and the omission told Aakash more than her words had. A part of his mind wandered, imagining how Payal-ji would've answered the question before her fiancé had left her.

And how she would answer it now.

Aakash cleared his throat, "We should head back inside."

"Your mother will have named our children by now," Kavya-ji giggled as she preceded him through the doors, "she's very excitable."

Though there was not discernible insult in the words, the need to defend his mother bubbled inside Aakash.

"I'm her only child, and she only wants the best for me. That's no crime."

"I didn't mean—"

He nodded sharply, cutting off whatever reply Kavya-ji was going to give, and they crossed to the sitting area in silence. She didn't look up as she settled between her parents, shaking her head slightly when her mother looked at her in askance.

And just like that, it was done.

The Aggarwals took their time, exchanging effusive and polite goodbyes with promises to call again at the earliest opportunity, but everyone except Maa could read the outcome in their posture and tone.

"That went well," she grinned as HP shut the front door.

Di managed a small smile. Dadi-ji tutted under her breath before rushing away, muttering about releasing Lakshmi from the bedroom she'd been confined to for duration of the visit.

And incredibly, Papa winked from where he stood behind Maa.

Sighing, Aakash hastened to his bedroom, intent on sequestering himself before his mother's torrent of questions could begin. His laptop was on the small table in his room, open to a photo from a recent photo-shoot. The model – Lisa, Aakash recalled vaguely – toyed suggestively with the hem of a royal blue dress as she pouted into the lens. He flicked to the next photo distractedly. She wore custard yellow and pale green, her back exposed and hair swept into a loose knot as she gazed over a bare shoulder.

Payal-ji had worn similar colours when she'd visited the day before. She'd perched on the edge of the sofa, bent towards Di as they'd pored over sample catalogues sent by jewellers, and he'd been distracted all afternoon. Inventing an excuse to work in the study, he'd studied her covertly while avoiding Maa's pointed questions. And later, he'd chanced upon her in the kitchen.

"Namaste, Aakash-ji."

"Namaste."

"You haven't been at the temple this week."

This, of course, meant that she'd looked for him.

His pulse had quickened. "I'm preparing for a meeting in Mumbai. There hasn't been time."

"Oh. Good luck," her smile had been sweet and genuine.

"Thank you, Payal-ji."

Aakash slumped back into his chair with a groan.

 _Bhai's fiancé's sister. What are you thinking, Aakash?_

* * *

 _Author's Note: Thank you for taking the time to read, and for your lovely reviews. I appreciate them all :D_


	35. Chapter 33: Khushi

**Chapter 33: Khushi**

"Khushi, Di said no such thing."

She huffed in frustration, blowing hair out of her eyes as she glared at the phone in her hand. Then it was back to her ear.

"Di told you that Aakash-ji was distracted. That he wasn't eating properly. That he accompanies her to the _Laxmi Nagar_ temple every chance he gets!"

"Aannddd?" her fiancé drawled.

"And who else goes to the temple? My _Jiji_!"

Arnav-ji groaned. She imagined him running his hand through his hair and was suddenly struck by the desire to feel the strands against her own fingertips.

 _Concentrate, Khushi._

"When you came to me with this maddened scheme," Arnav-ji began, "I asked Aakash. Trust me, if he felt something, I would know."

"I know you. You probably asked Aakash-ji in a roundabout and secretive way. How was he to know what you were saying?"

"Uhh ... I ..."

"And anyway, what would a Laad Governor such as yourself know about this?"

"Laad - What the hell does that even mean!?"

"It means that you should listen to me," she replied reasonably, "I'm right about this."

"What crap!"

"Look, if you aren't going to help me then I'll just do it myself."

"Go ahead," Arnav-ji invited,"I give up."

Then his tone lowered intimately, "But don't forget that the conditions of our bet were that the loser would do anything the winner asked. _Anything_."

Khushi shivered as she issued her challenge, "I'll win. You'll see. They like each other."

"Such confidence. I'll see you soon, be ready for dinner."

"You promised ice cream this time."

"I haven't forgotten."

Khushi made to end the call, but then ...

"Arnav-ji!"

"... yeah?" he sounded distracted.

"I ... uh ..."

 _I love you._

"I ... you see ... I ..."

 _I love you._ _I love you._ _I love you._

"Yes?"

 _Oh Devi Maiyya, why is this so hard?_

"... I ... B-Bua-ji needs to sp-speak to you."

"Ohk-kaay," confusion suffused his tone.

"Yes. Bye."

Disconnecting, Khushi closed her eyes and pressed a palm to her temple.

 _Three words Khushi. Why can't you say those three little words?_

Her phone buzzed again.

"I thought Bua-ji needed to speak to me," Arnav-ji greeted when she answered it.

"N-no. Not now. Wh-when you come la-later."

"Ahh."

"Bye."

She buried the phone within her clothes in the _almari_ , muttering to the statue of Devi Maiyya that sat on her small table, "This is all his fault! He should have said it a long time ago!"

Sighing, she reached for the envelope Di had sent over his morning. Then, pushing aside her inability to voice her feelings to her fiancé, she left her room. Jiji sat on a settee, a pale pink _sari_ spread over her lap as she worked on its embroidered edge. Khushi settled on the dining table where her sister could see her.

"Di sent me this envelope," she began, her voice pitched to carry across the room, "I wonder what's inside."

Jiji didn't react.

"I'm opening the envelope," Khushi waved it around, "I think it's a gift!"

Opening the envelope was a more silent affair than she'd hoped, so she gave a running commentary as she worked, "There are papers ... no, not papers. Photos. But we've already received photos from our engagement."

The photos she'd requested from Di slid out of the envelope, a stack as thick as two of her fingers.

"That's odd," she continued, craning her neck to watch for Jiji's reaction, "These are photos of ladies ... Ohhhhh, I know."

She held three of them up, waving them energetically in her sister's direction, "These are the proposals for Aakash-ji! Di asked me to look over them."

Khushi counted it as a small victory when Jiji's hands froze.

"I suppose it's only fitting that I have a say in choosing my own Devrani," she pretended to flick through the photos, "I'll boss her around, force her to do menial chores and make her life miserable in all sorts of ways. Won't it be fun, Jiji?"

A sidelong glance at her sister revealed that she had her full attention. Pressing her lips together to contain a grin, Khushi continued the farce.

"Mami-ji wants a beautiful, no a _beautiphool_ girl, someone who will take care of her, Mama-ji, and of course, Aakash-ji. Someone—"

She cut off as Jiji stood abruptly and strode to the open window. A gust of cool air toyed with her _dupatta_ as she stared out into the busy street.

"Help me bring the clothes inside," Jiji's voice was soft, "There's a storm coming."

Eyeing the low-hanging low clouds, Khushi nodded her agreement and followed her sister outside. They worked in silence for a few minutes before Jiji spoke.

"When did they start looking for a bride for Aakash-ji?"

"After our engagement. Nani-ji wants Arnav-ji to be married first but Mami-ji has already begun looking."

Jiji busied herself with a blouse, folding and refolding it a few times before draping it on the bannister with a sigh.

"Does ... Does Aakash-ji have someone in mind?"

"Maybe Di will know," Khushi shrugged as she led the way inside, "He hasn't told me anything."

She snuck glances at her sister as they sorted the clothes into piles, and when they were done, rewarded herself with a morsel of _jalebi_ from the kitchen.

"You know ..." she bundled her pile of suits and _dupattas_ in her arms, "Nani-ji said there are two other cousins. One in Sydney, Australia, and another at Deolali. Both are unmarried."

"Khushi!"

"I didn't ask," she giggled, "We were making a list of people to invite for the wedding."

Jiji followed her into their bedroom, "Still ... what if they ..."

Khushi set the clothes on their bed.

"What if they think I'm serious? Don't worry Jiji, Nani-ji has strict plans about when they will marry. First Arnav-ji," she counted on her fingers, "then Aakash-ji, then Dhruv-ji."

Catching sight of a smudge of _chashni_ on her first finger, Khushi popped it into her mouth and licked it off, and then blushed, thinking of all the _badmaash_ jokes Arnav-ji would have made if he'd seen her.

"So you have no reason to worry," she continued with a smile, "unless you like Aakash-ji."

Her smile slipped when Jiji turned away abruptly, but not fast enough to hide the sudden shine of emotion in her eyes. Suddenly, her antics seemed childish and wrong. Khushi opened her mouth to apologise but Jiji spoke first.

"It's nothing," her sister tried to smile, "All this talk of weddings just makes me ... Sometimes I think ... sometimes I think marriage just isn't in my fate."

"Jiji! But marriage is one of life's greatest joys. The celebrations, the rituals, the prayers, the bridal trousseau, and of course, a _rajkumar_ who comes on a white horse and takes you away to a new home and a new life, and showers you with all his love."

Jiji pulled her into a hug with a genuine smile, "Does your Arnav-ji even know how to ride a horse?"

"My Arnav-ji can do anything if he puts his mind to it!" Khushi said decisively.

 _Except say that he loves me._

They broke apart, Jiji turning to their shared _almari_ while Khushi slid her things into drawers.

"Amma and Bua-ji were talking this afternoon," Jiji broke their silence, "About _Dhanteras_ next week. It's all my fault."

Her hands froze, her heart sinking as she realised what her sister was saying. The broken alliance had cost them a lot of money, chipping away at Babu-ji's savings. A deep breath, and then she turned with a smile stretched across her lips.

"There's nothing to worry about! I saw an ad in the paper this morning. There are silver coins hidden in packets of _Miss_ _Chamko_ detergent for _Diwali_! We can just buy twenty of them and get the silver that way!

"And if we don't find a coin?"

"Devi Maiyya will handle it," Khushi winked in the direction of the statue, "but we'll get twelve months' supply of _Chamko_ detergent in any case. No harm done."

"Khushi—"

"—And don't worry about _Diwali_ either. Like every year, I will make the _diya_ and decorate the house. Happy-ji will help us with the lights."

"You have it all figured out, don't you?" Jiji smiled fondly.

"Yes," Khushi grinned, "I do."

"Here, I found your phone in the _almari_. You shouldn't be so careless."

* * *

 _Author's Note:_

 _Thank you very much for reading :-) I really appreciate it!_ _I read all the reviews and comments. I forgot to say this last week: thank you_ Batraz _for your lovely comment and very gentle correction :-)_

 _It seems that people need to be reminded every week: RISHTAA is not only the story of two people, it is the story of two families, and as such, there will be chapters that do not feature the romance between Khushi and her Arnav-ji, and scenes where they are not together._


	36. Chapter 34: Khushi

**Chapter 34: Khushi**

Khushi fiddled with the pendant contemplatively, tracing a finger around the pearls. It was Diwali, and though Arnav-ji had been away for some urgent international business, he'd returned in time for the occasion. A surprise had been planned in his absence, one that Amma and Babu-ji had embraced wholeheartedly, and Khushi and her sister had been laden with a small mountain of sweets to celebrate in Shantivan. She'd spent the afternoon helping with decorations and other preparations before Di had ushered them away to change for the party.

 _Will he like it?_

She fussed with the pleats of her _sari_ , studying her reflection in Di's mirror with a frown. She wore the ensemble Arnav-ji had selected for her, the red _sari_ from their _Shagun_ and the bangles he'd gifted. Garnet earrings from the matching set and his mother's necklace completed the outfit.

He'd arrived some thirty minutes ago — she'd heard his voice in the corridor — and though she'd briefly entertained the idea of knocking on his door, it still felt too bold and daring to be alone with him. To _want_ to be alone with him.

Besides, there was Di's surprise to think about.

Turning away from the mirror with a smile, Khushi unlocked the doors and ventured outside, anticipation quickening her pulse and adding a bounce to her step. His eyes found her instantly when she came down the stairs. He froze in the crowd of guests, his gaze roving up and down her form in a way that made her want to hide herself. Khushi took a shaky breath as she stepped towards him, but was intercepted on her way to his side by Jiji.

"You look beautiful," her sister gushed, leading her away by the arm, "Is that the _sari_ they gifted you for the _Shagun_?"

Khushi glanced back to where her heart wanted to go. He was still staring.

"Y-yes," she blinked away from him, "Arnav-ji picked it out."

"He has excellent taste."

His gaze seemed to burn between her shoulder blades. "He does."

Her pulse roared in her ears, an incessant thrum that urged her towards him. He was calling to her, his body somehow singing to hers. It was a song she recognised in her bones. Her eyes found him again, now so much closer, and a tremble went through her with each step he took.

"Khushi-ji?"

Khushi startled into awareness, numbly recognising that Di had been calling her name.

"I'm sorry Di," she tried to smile, tucking a curl of hair behind her ear, "Is everything okay?"

"Chhote wouldn't have lit the _diya_ in his bedroom and poolside. I think we should send someone to check."

"I'll do it," Khushi grasped the chance to escape with both hands.

"I saw Om Prakash-ji over …" Di trailed off uncertainly, craning her neck to see into the crowd.

"I'll do it, Di, it's not a problem."

A quick glance at Arnav-ji, now detained by a man in a suit, and then she fled upstairs before he could see her. Inside his bedroom, she stopped and took two calming breaths.

 _What is happening?_

He looked so handsome today.

 _No, not only handsome._

She blushed. The grey-blue shirt he wore brought out his eyes and the black suit fitted him so well that her hands trembled with the desire to touch his shoulders. And his hair. And his …

 _Oh Devi Maiyya._

Snatching a box of matches from the small table, Khushi stepped out to where unlit _diya_ lined the pool. The simple repetition of lighting _diya_ for his health and prosperity calmed her, bringing clarity to her thoughts as she worked.

Though innocent, she was not unaware. She knew what she felt - not only love but that _other_ four letter word. And she knew the craving for his touch would only intensify until they were wed.

But he would know what to do. She only had to wait.

The flame had just caught on the final _diya_ when her breath hitched, the increase in heart rate a warning that he was near.

"Khushi."

She turned. There was a fire in his eyes, an intensity in the way he held himself that stilled her breath altogether. She stood frozen as he approached.

"I told you that no one gets to see you in this but me," he seemed to smoulder even though his eyes were narrowed in annoyance.

Khushi blinked slowly as the memory of Arnav-ji caging her against her bedroom door after their _Shagun_ surfaced. She hadn't thought he was being serious.

"I thought," she swallowed hard, looking down at his coat buttons, "I thought I'd surprise you."

He took a step forward, "You did."

"You don't like it?" she stepped back hastily.

"You have no idea, do you?"

His eyes didn't leave hers as he took a few steps forward, forcing her to back away. Her heart thundered.

"Ab-about what?" her back hit the wall behind her.

"How much," he closed the distance between them, "I ache."

Her tummy seemed to drop a few inches. Her eyes fluttered closed as his fingers, gentle and warm, caressed her cheek, and the ache within her intensified. She twisted her hand into soft fabric of her _sari_ when his breath caused her fringe to move against her forehead. Arnav-ji was slow, his movements precise, as he brushed her fringe away before cupping her face. He tilted her head upwards.

His mouth was hot and firm. Her knees buckled, her arms wrapping around him almost desperately as she fought to retain some semblance of decorum. But that too flew away when he swept his tongue inside her mouth, roving and exploring with a wildness that left her gasping when he moved his mouth to her neck.

 _Oh._

He pulled her closer, his movements tinged with an unfamiliar ferocity as passion ignited between them. She surrendered to him, pressing closer and allowing her hands to explore him as they'd desired. The roughness of his stubble, the column of his throat, the breadth of his shoulders. She tugged at the closed collar of his shirt, desperate for the skin that it hid.

He groaned, or was it her?

He bit her neck before soothing her with his tongue. Giving up on the shirt, Khushi slid her hands across the slope of his chest, stopping to fiddle with the button on his jacket. He gasped her name when she unbuttoned it, her hands slipping around him to draw patterns on the back of his waistcoat. He pushed her _pallu_ aside to trace fire into the skin left exposed between her blouse and petticoat. When his fingers brushed against the underside of her breast she was gripped by a desire so intense it tore a gasp from her throat.

 _More._

But then he was gone, leaving her cold and lightheaded and slumped against the wall for balance. The world seemed to spin. Khushi's breath came in rapid pants as she blinked at him, hazily taking in his clenched jaw and fisted hands and averted eyes.

"You should go," his tone was cold and brittle.

The rejection that washed over her was instant and overpowering. Tears prickled as shame followed it, cooling her blood and her skin so she shivered in the warm night air. He still wouldn't look at her, and regret uncoiled in her chest as she thought of her wanton, inappropriate behaviour.

This was not how it was meant to be.

Hiccupping a sob, she picked her way to the glass doors that led inside but couldn't resist glancing back. What she saw in his eyes gave her the courage to stay. Khushi wiped her tears and tentatively stepped back to his side, ignoring his grimace and focussing instead on the way his throat worked as he tried to swallow. She placed a hand on his shoulder, but he flung it away.

"Go!" his voice sliced through the air.

The fear she thought she'd conquered wrapped around her heart and squeezed. The words were on her tongue before she gave her mouth permission to speak.

"Why? Why not me?"

"What?"

"What do I lack that the other women had?" she ignored the warning his tone had held, "You touched them, didn't you?"

"Khushi!" his hands came up to hold her shoulders.

Her eyes flicked to where he held her – too hard – before finding his face again. There was a dangerous glint in his eyes and his mouth was twisted in fury, but now a fire burned within her as well.

"You always hold back. You're always so careful. And I—"

"I'm warning you—"

"All those women—"

"Shut up!"

"—You touched _them_ and you won't touch me. Why not?"

"Because you aren't _them_. Because I love you, dammit!"

The breeze rustled a few stray leaves across the courtyard as they stood frozen in silence. Then Arnav-ji released her with a sharp inhale. He stared at her for several long seconds before leaving the poolside, slamming the door so hard that she gave a startled jump.

 _Because I love you, dammit._

 _Because I love you._

 _I love you._

How long had she agonised over his every look and gesture, looking for meaning and significance? How long had she waited for those words?

 _Because I love you,_ _dammit._

Khushi grinned, blinking back happy tears, "Laad Governor."

The rest of the night passed in a blur. The celebrations lasted long into the night and though she looked out for him, Arnav-ji didn't return. She swapped stories with his family and their guests, smiling and giggling while his confession played in a loop in her mind. She watched Aakash-ji make conversation with Jiji as she blushed and stammered under his gaze, and grinned in victory. She fed everyone a veritable mountain of sweets but package of sugar free sweets she'd wrapped earlier remained untouched on the kitchen counter.

It was late when they returned home. Jiji fell asleep almost immediately but Khushi sat for hours at her table, staring expectantly at her phone. It was almost two in the morning when it finally buzzed.

 _Come outside._

She sighed in relief even as her fingers typed out a reply.

 _No._

 _Either come outside quietly or I will get you myself. Not quietly._

Grimacing, Khushi tiptoed out of her room, stopping to grab a small container from the kitchen before easing the front door open. Arnav-ji scowled at her before shrugging out of his jacket and wrapping it about her shoulders.

"You'll get sick."

Her heart swelled with gratitude for the small gesture even as a blush crept across her cheeks. It seemed this was a night for sharing new intimacies - she was clad in her night suit. Buttoning the jacket closed, she stepped out onto the verandah with him before opening the container and holding a small piece of _barfi_ to his lips.

"Eat."

He obeyed uncomplainingly (though his eyebrow arched high) and even fed her when he was done.

"Are you okay?" he placed the empty container on the small table beside him.

Khushi bit her lip as she nodded, suddenly shy.

"Come here," he tugged her close, his arms banding around her tightly as he pressed two kisses into her hair, "There is nothing wrong with you. Nothing."

Khushi nodded into his shoulder.

"I thought … I don't know … before marriage …" he sighed, "I don't know where the line is."

She nodded again as he continued, "This is new for me too. I've never felt this way ... I've never said those words ... and tonight we got so carried away. You mean so much to me that I—"

Khushi pressed her palm to his mouth. Her courage would ebb away if she didn't say it now.

"Hum bhi aap se I love you dammit." [I love you too, dammit (literally: I also I love you dammit)]

Her cheeks and neck heated as she removed her hand, watching his reaction carefully. Warmth replaced the shock in his eyes as a slow smile formed on his lips.

He rested his forehead against hers, "Paagal." [Crazy girl.]

She snuggled into him again with a soft giggle.

"Did you find the coin?" he asked suddenly.

"I bought twenty packets," Khushi huffed, peering up at him, "Twenty! And there were no coins. But Jiji bought two packets with her own money and found one. Bua-ji was so happy!"

Arnav-ji chuckled, "If I'd known how much it meant I would've hidden a coin inside a packet myself. But I'm glad Payal found one. Did Di give you something?"

A small jewelry set of white gold and sapphires now sat in her _almari_ , gifted in his absence by Di.

"Arnav-ji you shouldn't have -" she began, but he cut her off.

"- It's my right."

They stood in silence until he spoke again, his tone light and teasing. "Khushi ... when you say _touch_ you ... what exactly do you mean?"

She pushed him away with a gasp, grinning through a blush as she bounded back inside.

"Badmaash!" [Rascal!]

She closed the door with a wink and left him smirking on the threshold.

* * *

 _Author's Note:_

 _Thank you very much for taking the time to read, as usual :) I hope you liked this chapter, I really enjoyed writing it and have been very excited to share it. Like the motorcycle scene, the lines_

"—You touched _them_ and you won't touch me. Why not?"

"Because you aren't _them_. Because I love you, dammit!"

 _came to me very early on. RISHTAA has, in a way, been an exercise in creating a Khushi who would ask that question - after all, in the canon she couldn't ask Arnav about his past intimacies, even after marriage. I laid the foundation slowly._ _As in the serial, Arnav is the only thing in her life that is solely hers and the only person she doesn't feel indebted to. This is why she expected him to save her Jiji's marriage - he's hers and she was asking him for something for the first time._

 _Khushi accepted Arnav as a husband very early on and saw herself as part his family almost immediately. It was Khushi who initiated physical contact. It was Khushi who decided not to ask him about his past relationships, and Khushi who decided it didn't matter that he'd touched other women. But the fear was always there, and given how careful Arnav is about physical intimacies, it had to rise to the surface at some point._

 _The chapter turned out almost exactly as I'd planned and I'm really proud of it :)_


	37. Chapter 35: Arnav

**Chapter 35: Arnav**

"What are you doing?"

"Me? I'm reading the minutes of today's acquisitions meeting."

"Arnav-ji! Don't you watch any films?"

Arnav frowned at the papers in front of him, absently touching the Bluetooth device at his ear.

"Answer me like they do in films," Khushi's tone rose an octave as she implored.

"What do you mean?"

"You should say that you're lying down and staring up at the stars."

"It's cloudy," he objected, his eyes finding the night-time sky, "and that sounds like a waste of time."

"Fine! I'm hanging up."

"Okay. You should sleep, you have classes tomorrow."

"No wait, listen. I'll hang up now?"

"Yeah," he flipped to the next page.

"Should I really hang up?"

"Do you … want it in writing?"

"Okay," Khushi seemed to perk up, "You hang up first!"

Arnav rolled his eyes at her childishness, "Good night."

Ending the call, he settled back into the chair with a weary sigh, but his phone rang not thirty seconds later.

"You hung up!" Khushi greeted, outrage clear in every syllable.

"Well … yeah."

She huffed, seemingly so angry that she couldn't even speak, and it dawned on him that he was in trouble.

"You're not meant to hang up," she explained with exaggerated patience, "You're meant to say 'You first', so that I can say, 'No, you first' and then we talk like that."

"Why?"

"Because it's romantic!"

Arnav considered her words as he slid the file onto the table and reclined back.

 _She's trying to flirt. This is her filmy notion of romance._

He smiled into the phone, the realisation triggering a warmth in his chest. "What do you want to talk about, then?"

Immediately, she launched into a story about her latest project for college, a series of case studies into different pedagogies that involved day trips to local schools. While it was evident she loved children, and loved to learn, he'd started to wonder about her desire to become a teacher. For some reason, it didn't strike him as _Khushi_.

"… Then Barun said he wouldn't apologise to Pinky and we had a discussion about saying sorry … why don't boys say sorry, Arnav-ji?"

"I don't know," Arnav traced a finger along the edge of his chair, "It's hard to say it sometimes."

"Even for you?"

"Yeah."

A knock on his bedroom door distracted him from her reply.

"Babe, I'll call you back, okay? Give me a few minutes."

"Oh … what … you …" he heard her take a deep breath through the phone, "What did you c-call me j-just now?"

"What?" his fingers drummed on the chair as he replayed his words, "oh … 'Babe' … you don't like it?"

"I … you see …"

He grinned, imagining her blush stealing across her cheeks and nose. "Ten minutes. Hold that thought."

Sliding the phone into his pocket, he opened the door to find Aakash and Di on the threshold. He invited them in with a gesture, noting that Aakash looked pale, and folded his arms as they settled on his recliner.

"We have a problem," Di started, her hand finding Aakash's shoulder.

"Maa has more photos of girls," Aakash scuffed his shoe against the carpet, "Sita, Gita, Rita, I can't keep track anymore."

Arnav sat at the foot his bed as Di turned to their brother.

"Aakash, we know you best. Tell us what kind of a girl you want. We'll," here her eyes flicked to Arnav, "We will talk to Mami-ji."

"Di, it's not like …" Aakash's protest trailed off into silence.

Arnav shrugged at his sister's enquiring glance.

"I want someone simple." Aakash said suddenly, "Soft spoken. Kind and gentle. Someone who takes care of others. Not a rich socialite, not a Miss World, but someone who brings happiness just by being. Someone like … someone like … Payal-ji."

His cousin blushed, ducking his head as Di squealed.

"Aakash, this is wonderful! Isn't it wonderful, Chhote?"

Arnav nodded, his eyes still on Aakash.

"So, what's happening? Have you told her? Does she feel the same? We should call her family and arrange a time to meet. Chh—"

"—Di, let him speak."

She settled back, resting her hands in her lap with a contrite smile. "Sorry, sorry, sorry. Aakash?"

It took a few seconds for his cousin to gather himself.

"I haven't spoken to her. I mean … I've talked … talked to her, obviously. But she doesn't know how I … how I feel."

"Do you think she feels the same?" Di asked.

"I don't … I don't know."

Arnav blinked as they both turned to him, expectant.

"Don't look at me, Payal hasn't told me anything."

"Has Khushi-ji mentioned anything?" Di nodded encouragingly, "She must have said something."

 _Khushi talks non-stop._

"Yes, but …"

"Call her, Chhote, we'll speak with her right now."

 _She'll never let me forget this._

Sighing in defeat, Arnav complied, dialling her number before placing his phone on the small table between them. Khushi answered almost immediately.

"Will you say it in public, or only when we're alone? Because, Arnav-ji, I don't think—"

"—Khushi," he interrupted hastily as Di and Aakash exchanged bewildered glances, "You're on the speaker. Di and Aakash want to speak to you."

"Oh … Namaste."

He cursed inwardly on hearing the slight tremble in her voice, suddenly disliking the idea of dragging her into this.

"Namaste Khushi-ji," Di greeted brightly, "We're calling to ask a few questions."

"What questions, Di?"

"Do you think Payal-ji uhh … if we came to your house to ask for Payal-ji's hand for Aakash … do you think …"

There was a soft thud on the other end of the line, followed by a muffled squeal. Worry tightened in Arnav's chest.

"Khushi? Are you alright?"

"Sorry," she answered shortly, slightly out of breath, "I dropped the phone. I think, oh Di, I think that would be _wonderful_. Jiji will be so happy!"

"Do you really think so?" Di grinned.

"Yes! I'll tell Jiji right now!"

"No!" Aakash spoke up, "Khushi-ji I … I think I should speak to Payal-ji first."

"Right. Of course."

"Khushi-ji, thank you," Di swiped the phone from the table, "and good night!"

"Good night, Di."

Something akin to annoyance surged within him when his sister ended the call, but Arnav was quickly distracted by Aakash's sigh.

"Maa will never understand."

Ever the optimist, Di eagerly reassured him, "Of course she will. She only wants you to be happy, and she'll realise that you can only be happy with Payal-ji."

Then she was distracted by the chime of her phone, blushing as she read the message before looking up, "Your Jija-ji. I should call him."

Arnav studied his brother in the short silence that followed.

"Bhai, you haven't really said anything."

A memory surfaced — Khushi skipping alongside him as they circled a lake, asking questions and taking his hand.

"Talk to her," he said softly, "Get to know her. We'll talk to Mami-ji when you're ready."

"And if she doesn't agree?"

"Aakash, if this is what you want, then I'll make sure it happens."

"Thanks, Bhai. And please … please thank Khushi-ji for me too."

It was only when he was closing the door behind his brother that the thought struck him.

Khushi Kumari Gupta had won their bet.

* * *

 _Author's Note:_

 _Thank you very much for reading, as usual!_

 _The next update will be on_ _April 22nd 2017_ _._


	38. Teaser 3

**_A Note_**

 _T_ _his is an author's note, I'll take it down before the next update, I just need to say a few things._

I really appreciate all the support everyone has shown me, not only for RISHTAA but for all my endeavours. I realise that you all take time out of your schedules to read the things I write, and it fills me with happiness and gratitude. That _anyone_ enjoys anything I write still blows my mind, and I've come to recognise many of your usernames and avatars.

Some of you have noted, and correctly, that updates used to be weekly and are now fortnightly or, in this case, more. Because I had a nice, polite message about it today, I thought I'd take a moment to clarify.

I don't sit around for seven days at a time and think up of ways to torment you, to _punish_ you for reading my stories. I'm not choosing dates for the updates to be purposefully difficult.

I obviously no longer the time to dedicate to this story that I used to. Something has changed in my circumstances ... I'm not comfortable sharing any more details but rest assured that I'm aware that reader engagement will suffer because of my circumstances.

However, I've never really cared about statistics.

If you're still reading this story in a few months when we're rounding out Arc Three then I will be grateful, but I don't expect anything. As I give out the dates of each update, it might be possible to combat any disengagement by re-reading the previous chapter (or two) so the emotions are still there.

I understand that it's not optimal, but things aren't exactly easy for me either and I'm trying my best. I've always been honest with my readers, and that will not change.

Now, because I'm not allowed to post up anything that's ONLY an author's note, here's a sneak peek into a scene that occurs somewhere within the remaining ~20+ chapters of RISHTAA.

* * *

 _Shaking her head, Khushi approached the bathroom, but the door opened before she reached it. Her pulse stalled as Arnav-ji stepped out, a pair of dark jeans slung low on his hips and no shirt sight. Her eyes left his face to travel down his chest, all burnished gold and muscle._

 _"Like what you see?" his tone was amused._

 _She twirled away with a squeak, hiding her face in her hands as mortification swept through her._

 _Oh Devi Maiyya!_

* * *

Hehehehehe


	39. Chapter 36: Payal

**Chapter 36: Payal**

The temple bells rang as Payal rushed up the stairs, her _puja_ _thaal_ balanced carefully in one hand. Her other hand was engaged in battle with her _dupatta_ , which had been hastily flung around her neck as she'd hurried from home and now threatened to fall. In her distraction, she didn't register the figure that stepped out from behind the pillar until it was too late.

"Payal-ji!"

Marigolds fell to the floor in a shower of petals as the platter collided with his chest. The minuscule container of vermillion followed as Payal watched in horror, and a smudge of scarlet appeared on her saviour's crisp blue shirt. Her eyes flew up, an apology already on her lips, but it died when she realised it was _Aakash-ji_ patting his hands over his chest in an attempt to brush off the mess. A blush crept up her cheeks instead.

"I … I'm sorry," her voice trembled, "I didn't see —"

"—It's fine," Aakash-ji interrupted, his hands stilling, "Are you okay?"

Payal nodded, taking a careful step backwards to introduce distance between them.

"Is Anjali-ji with you?" she asked, eager to distract herself from the rapid thunder of her heart. Her palms seemed suddenly sweaty.

"No, I was checking fabric samples from a new supplier and thought … I thought to stop … stop by."

Aakash-ji turned away, taking off his shoes before striding towards the dais where the priest was making ready for the _aarti_ , and she followed quickly. Silence reigned between them until the observances were over. Payal stepped in line behind other devotees, aware of every small movement her companion made as he hovered to the side, and explained her purpose in visiting when it was her turn to speak to the priest. He blessed the small collection of sweets she'd laboured all morning to prepare, including the syrupy golden spirals her sister loved so much, and then it was time to leave.

"Khushi has an exam," she explained as they retrieved their shoes, "I want her to do well."

"How is she finding her last semester?"

"I think it both excites and terrifies her. Just a few months left."

Aakash-ji smiled at this. Though Payal half-feared that he would make his excuses to leave, he seemed content to escort her home. They turned a corner before he spoke again.

"I liked the safety college offered," he confessed, "I didn't know what I was going to do when I graduated."

"You work with Arnav-ji now?"

"Yes, in Strategic Management."

Her incomprehension must have been clear on her features because he explained after glancing down at her, "I implement strategic policy. Where to invest and when, how much to commit, which directions will be best for our company, things like that."

She braced for his questions about her own studies, dreading revealing that Babu-ji hadn't been able to afford college for her and that Abhishek-ji's family had promised further education but …

Payal sighed as they entered a small market area, stalls lining either side of a narrow pathway. A woman bustled past her, roughly pushing her out of the way, and she managed to catch herself on a small wooden cart. Luckily, the _prasad_ stayed on her platter, though a handful of tomatoes from the cart fell to the ground.

"You will have to pay for that!" the grumpy vendor accosted her almost immediately.

"But the lady …"

Her protest was swiftly cut off, "I don't care, I have to pay for the ruined merchandise somehow."

"I'll handle it," Aakash-ji offered, already reaching into his trouser pocket for his wallet.

Embarrassment curled within her at the thought of being in his debt, but she hadn't brought her own purse and so couldn't even offer to pay for the damaged goods herself. The vendor blinked in surprise when Aakash-ji pulled out the outrageous amount he'd demanded without hesitation.

And suddenly, all her half-formed hopes and tentatives dreams seemed that much further away.

"I also want a bag of potatoes," he handed the money over, "and some cauliflower and okra."

Payal frowned, wondering what the army of servants in Shantivan did all day if Aakash-ji had to buy vegetables himself, but soon realised that he was buying extra things to ease her anxiety over the damaged tomatoes.

"You don't have to," she protested in undertone, but he only tilted one corner of his mouth in a half-smile before turning his attention back to the vendor.

"Shall we?" he asked when his arms were laden with his purchases.

They continued down the lane, with Aakash-ji positioned slightly in front of her as protection from further jostling, and soon her house came into view. And parked across the narrow alleyway was a small white car.

"Bhai's car was vandalised overnight," Aakash-ji said suddenly, "and he took my car to work. So I have this one today."

"What happened?"

"Kids. They put _misri_ into his fuel tank."

Happy-ji chose that moment to stroll out of his garage.

"Our neighbour is a mechanic," she offered, "Happy-ji takes care of Babu-ji's car and is very talented."

The words were out of her mouth before she considered that he not asked for recommendations, nor did he need them, and that Laxmi Nagar was really too far out of his way in either case.

"I'll mention it to Bhai," Aakash-ji smiled, "Thank you."

There was a short silence, in which Payal tried to untangle her confused thoughts as she readjusted the bag on her shoulder. She didn't want him to leave.

"Would you … would you like to come inside for tea? Babu-ji is home and he'd love to see you."

"I should get back to the office," he seemed apologetic.

Mortification swept through Payal as she nodded hastily, "Of course, I didn't mean …"

"May I visit tomorrow instead? I'll rearrange my day."

He gave a small smile when she nodded. Out of excuses to delay, Payal turned to the steps that led to her verandah with a heavy heart.

"Payal-ji," he spoke before she'd taken two steps, "Take this with you."

"Khushi-ji likes potatoes, doesn't she?" he offered a small bag when she turned around, frowning in confusion, "She should have something she likes to celebrate tonight."

Taking the bag with a grateful smile, Payal corrected him, "Khushi eats potatoes three times a day. To say she likes them is to say that the Sun is warm."

Instead of releasing the bag as she'd expected, he adjusted his grip so his hand lay over hers. Payal gasped, her gaze flying up to find his face.

"And what do you like?" his tone was soft, and much too intimate, "What do you want?"

Heart galloping, breath suddenly stuck in her lungs, Payal could only blink. He leaned down to whisper, "See you tomorrow."

He strolled towards his car, and she was still standing frozen as he'd left her when he turned to wave goodbye. Her hand seemed to rise of its own accord to answer him shyly. And when he was gone, and the alleyway empty once more, she allowed a grin to form on her lips.

 _You're just as fanciful as Khushi_ , her oft-practical mind admonished, but her heart was already singing to a different tune.

 _Rajkumar_.

* * *

 _Author's Note: Thank you for your patience! I really appreciate all the nice messages everyone has sent._

The next update will be on _6 May 2017_.


	40. A Note

Hi hi!

 _ **I will be putting RISHTAA on hiatus indefinitely.**_

 _ **But I've been working on a few new things so I hope to share them soon.**_

The first half of RISHTAA was written a lo0o0ng time ago. Back then, all of my stories were just mine, and writing was something I did in my own time. Then I started to publish stories, and it was going okay until I realised I had to rewrite the end of Arc 2 for RISHTAA. The updates caught up to the story and suddenly I was writing week to week.

It no longer feels like I'm writing RISHTAA for myself. _It feels like I'm working to a deadline_. And the last thing I need is to feel like I _have_ to write this story, or any story. Phati-Sari is where I come to relax. It forms a huge part of my recovery from depression, and will continue to inform the way I deal with the news that I have an autoimmune condition that cannot be cured.

So I want to put RISHTAA on hiatus and focus on a few other things. I want to get my bearings, I want to figure my life out a little, and I want to enjoy writing again :)

I realise this will disappoint people who enjoy RISHTAA and I'm sorry about that, but as always I have to do what's best for me. I want RISHTAA to be the best it can be as well, and at the moment I feel I can't give it the energy, time, and emotion that it needs.

Anyway, thanks for listening (reading!?) and I'm sorry once again.


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